THE LIFE OF GOD IN THE SOUL OF MAN
By Henry Scougal
BOSTON: NICHOLS AND NOYES.
iS68.
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Contents
INTRODUCTION ............................................................................................................................................. 7
PREFACE. ....................................................................................................................................................... 7
PART I ............................................................................................................................................................ 9
MISTAKES ABOUT RELIGION. .................................................................................................................... 9
WHAT RELIGION IS. ................................................................................................................................. 10
THE PERMANENCY AND STABILITY OF RELIGION. .................................................................................. 10
THE FREEDOM AND UNCONSTRAINEDNESS OF RELIGION. .................................................................... 10
RELIGION A DIVINE PRINCIPLE. ............................................................................................................... 12
WHAT THE NATURAL LIFE IS. .................................................................................................................. 12
THE DIFFERENT TENDENCIES OF THE NATURAL LIFE. ............................................................................. 13
WHEREIN THE DIVINE LIFE DOTH CONSIST. ............................................................................................ 14
RELIGION BETTER UNDERSTOOD BY ACTIONS THAN BY WORDS. .......................................................... 15
DIVINE LOVE EXEMPLIFIED IN OUR SAVIOUR: ........................................................................................ 15
OUR SAVIOUR'S CONSTANT DEVOTION.................................................................................................. 16
OUR SAVIOR’S CHARITY TO MEN. ........................................................................................................... 17
OUR SAVIOUR'S PURITY. ......................................................................................................................... 17
OUR SAVIOUR'S HUMILITY. ..................................................................................................................... 18
A PRAYER................................................................................................................................................. 19
PART II ......................................................................................................................................................... 19
THE EXCELLENCY AND ADVANTAGE OF RELIGION.................................................................................. 19
THE EXCELLENCY OF DIVINE LOVE. ......................................................................................................... 20
THE ADVANTAGES OF DIVINE LOVE. ....................................................................................................... 21
THE WORTH OF THE OBJECT. .................................................................................................................. 21
THE CERTAINTY TO BE BELOVED AGAIN. ................................................................................................ 22
THE PRESENCE OF THE BELOVED PERSON. ............................................................................................. 22
THE DIVINE LOVE MAKES US PARTAKE OF AN INFINITE HAPPINESS. ..................................................... 23
HE THAT LOVETH GOD FINDS SWEETNESS IN EVERY DISPENSATION..................................................... 23
THE DUTIES OF RELIGION ARE DELIGHTFUL TO HIM. ............................................................................. 24
THE EXCELLENCY OF CHARITY. ................................................................................................................ 24
THE PLEASURE THAT ATTENDS CHARITY. ............................................................................................... 25
THE EXCELLENCY OF PURITY. .................................................................................................................. 25
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THE DELIGHT AFFORDED BY PURITY. ...................................................................................................... 26
THE EXCELLENCY OF HUMILITY. .............................................................................................................. 26
THE PLEASURE AND SWEETNESS OF AN HUMBLE TEMPER.................................................................... 27
A PRAYER................................................................................................................................................. 27
PART III ........................................................................................................................................................ 28
THE DESPONDENT THOUGHTS OF SOME NEWLY AWAKENED TO A RIGHT SENSE OF THINGS. ............ 28
THE UNREASONABLENESS OF THESE FEARS. .......................................................................................... 29
WE MUST DO WHAT WE CAN, AND DEPEND ON THE DIVINE ASSISTANCE. .......................................... 30
WE MUST SHUN ALL MANNER OF SIN. ................................................................................................... 32
WE MUST KNOW WHAT THINGS ARE SINFUL. ....................................................................................... 32
WE MUST RESIST THE TEMPTATIONS OF SIN, BY CONSIDERING THE EVILS THEY WILL DRAW ON US. . 33
WE MUST KEEP A CONSTANT WATCH OVER OURSELVES. ..................................................................... 34
WE MUST OFTEN EXAMINE OUR ACTIONS. ............................................................................................ 35
IT IS FIT TO RESTRAIN OURSELVES IN MANY LAWFUL THINGS. .............................................................. 35
WE MUST STRIVE TO PUT OURSELVES OUT OF LOVE WITH THE WORLD. ............................................. 36
WE MUST DO THOSE OUTWARD ACTIONS THAT ARE COMMANDED. ................................................... 37
WE MUST ENDEAVOR TO FORM INTERNAL ACTS OF DEVOTION, CHARITY, &c..................................... 38
CONSIDERATION A GREAT INSTRUMENT OF RELIGION.......................................................................... 38
TO BEGET DIVINE LOVE, WE MUST CONSIDER THE EXCELLENCY OF THE DIVINE NATURE. ................... 39
WE SHOULD MEDITATE ON GOD'S GOODNESS AND LOVE. ................................................................... 40
TO BEGET CHARITY WE MUST REMEMBER THAT ALL MEN ARE NEARLY RELATED UNTO GOD. ........... 42
THAT THEY CARRY GOD'S IMAGE UPON THEM. ..................................................................................... 42
TO BEGET PURITY, WE SHOULD CONSIDER THE DIGNITY OF OUR NATURE. .......................................... 43
WE SHOULD MEDITATE OFTEN ON THE JOYS OF HEAVEN. .................................................................... 43
HUMILITY ARISES FROM THE CONSIDERATION OF OUR FAILINGS. ........................................................ 44
THOUGHTS OF GOD GIVE US THE LOWEST THOUGHTS OF OURSELVES. ............................................... 44
RELIGION IS TO BE ADVANCED BY THE SAME MEANS BY WHICH IT IS BEGUN; AND THE USE OF THE
HOLY SACRAMENT TOWARDS IT............................................................................................................. 45
A PRAYER................................................................................................................................................. 46
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INTRODUCTION
‘The Life of God In The Soul of Man’ was originally written as a private letter to a ‘dear’ friend, to explain
Christianity. It was never intended for publication. Yet it has become a classic Puritan text and one of the
most read and influential treatises ever written for the comfort of God’s saints.
Henry Scougal was born in 1650 and lived only 27 years, when he died of tuberculosis. Just before his
death in 1677, Scougal allowed the private communication to his friend to be published.
Nearly 70 years later, George Whitefield ‘decided’ to live a life of obedience and self denial to obtain the
approval of God and assurance of salvation. To deny himself he quit the only thing he enjoyed, the
Oxford ‘Holy Club’ where he was acquainted with John and Charles Wesley. In the spring of 1735, at the
age of 20, they handed Whitefield this book ‘The Life of God In The Soul of Man.’
Whitefield said, “I really wanted to know God and be assured of salvation, but even strict discipline
didn't seem to help. God Showed me (in Scougal’s writings) that I must be born again.” The rest is
history. The brief life of a young Christian, whose only ‘work’ was a letter to a friend, was used
profoundly in the seeding of the great awakening in America.
Scougal wrote that Christianity is not about external duties to perform, nor is it an emotion or feeling
one has. He defines true religion as the union of the soul with God, a partaker of the divine nature, or in
the apostle's words, “Christ in you, the hope of glory."
PREFACE.
THERE are books which never grow old; and this precious little volume, by Henry Scougal, is to be
numbered among them. In it is an eternal freshness and beauty, its bloom actually brightening with
dvancing time. These words, for two centuries, have been bread of life to thousands. They have, through
that long period, guided, comforted, and inspired; from that fact, they possess additional interest, for
they have stood the severest test, and been found adequate to meet the deepest wants of human
nature in its most trying needs. This "Life of God in the Soul of Man " has something of that divine life
within itself which can impart of its own fulness to every soul ready to receive. The very breath of
Jehovah may be felt through it. It kindles in the soul a sympathetic power, and lifts it into connection
with higher realms. With its holy fervor there is blended a natural calmness. Health and healing are in its
influence. Practical throughout, there is also a heavenly spirituality. Rising above all narrow limitations,
the devout of every name may hold it in reverence, and cherish its counsels with gratitude and love. To
the young, it will prove, armor of strength; to the aged, perpetual renovation; while Christians of all
communions will find within it a foretaste of immortality. The life to which it would lead is a heaven
upon earth, and that is but the commencement of a heaven without end. To all who hold in honor Christ
and his gospel, to those who would love God and man, to each one who would so live in time as to make
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it the joyous gateway to a glorious eternity, this little volume should be heartily welcome; and we doubt
not such welcome it will widely receive.
Henry Scougal was the son of the Bishop of Aberdeen, in Scotland. Born, June, 1650, at the age of fifteen
he entered the University, and at the early age of twenty he became professor of philosophy. Having
most acceptably fulfilled this important office for four years, he prepared himself for the ministry, and
was established in a small village about twenty miles from Aberdeen. From this place, however, he was
soon urged to enter upon the Professorship of Divinity in King's College, which duties he discharged with
honor; but, at the early age of twenty-seven, his health gave way, and on the 13th of June, 1678, he
closed his brief but useful career. One year before his departure, this invaluable treatise was given to
the world. It was modestly written, only for private use; but Bishop Burnet, seeing it, appreciated it so
highly that he hastened to give it to the world with the most generous and earnest commendation. "It
was written," he says, "by a pious and learned countryman of mine, for the private use of a noble
friend of the author's, without the least design of making it more public. Others, seeing it, were much
taken, both with the excellent purposes it contained, and the great clearness and pleasantness of the
style, the natural method and shortness of it, and desired it might be made a more public good."
Some time after, another edition of this incomparable treatise was published, with a preface by the
Principal of the College of Edinburgh, in which he says, "Since I had the happiness of becoming
acquainted with this book, I have heartily blessed God for the benefit I have received by the perusal of
it, and have earnestly wished it had a place in every family; was carefully perused by every one who can
read; and that the sentiments of pure and undefiled religion it contains, were impressed upon every
heart."
Among other special excellencies, the same writer dwells upon ''the prudence and charity, the author
discovers, in avoiding matters of doubtful disputation, about which the best and wisest men differ, while
he is treating of matters of the greatest importance, about which all good and wise men must agree." —
"Had we more," he adds, " of that true Christian spirit so beautifully delineated and so warmly
recommended in this book, I cannot but think that the fierceness of our contentions and animosities
about things of lesser moment must considerably abate."
The present edition of this volume is published by the request of one who, for nearly eighty years, has
found in it a continued resource and pleasure. Now at the advanced age of ninety, with a keen
appreciation of present enjoyments and privileges, he looks forward with growing earnestness and
happy anticipation to the sublime realities of the future. Much that he has enjoyed, through his pleasant
pilgrimage, as well as the heavenly Vision which kindles before the eve of Faith, is associated with this
little volume, familiar to him from his youth. Having derived so much happiness and advantage from it
himself, he desires to place it within the reach of others, confident that, with the blessing of Providence,
it can only be productive of increasing good.
R. C. W.
Boston, December, 1867.
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THE LIFE OF GOD
IN THE SOUL OF MAN.
PART I
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"My Dear Friend, —
This designation doth give you a title to all the endeavors whereby I can serve your interests; and your
pious inclinations do so happily conspire with my duty, that I shall not need to step out of my road to
gratify you; but I may at once perform an office of friendship, and discharge an exercise of my function,
since the advancing of virtue and holiness (which I hope you make your greatest study) is the peculiar
business of my employment. This, therefore, is the most proper instance wherein I can vent my
affection, and express my gratitude towards you; and I shall not any longer delay the performance of the
promise I made you to this purpose. For though I know you are provided with better helps of this nature
than any I can offer you, nor are you like to meet with any thing here which you knew not before, yet I
am hopeful, that what cometh from one whom you are pleased to honour with your friendship, and
which is more particularly designed for your use, will be kindly accepted by you; and God’s providence
perhaps may so direct my thoughts, that something or other may prove useful to you. Nor shall I doubt
your pardon, if, for molding my discourse into the better frame, I lay a low foundation, beginning with
the nature and properties of religion, and all along give such way to my thoughts, in the prosecution of
the subject, as may bring me to say many things which were not necessary, did I only consider to whom I
am writing.
MISTAKES ABOUT RELIGION.
I cannot speak of religion, but I must lament, that among so many pretenders to it, so few understand
what it means: some placing it in the understanding, in orthodox notions and opinions; and all the
account they can give of their religion is, that they are of this and the other persuasion, and have joined
themselves to one of those many sects whereinto Christendom is most unhappily divided. Others place
it in the outward man, in a constant course of external duties, and a model of performances. If they live
peaceably with their neighbours, keep a temperate diet, observe the returns of worship, frequenting the
church, or their closet, and sometimes extend their hands to the relief of the poor, they think they have
sufficiently acquitted themselves. Others again put all religion in the affections, in rapturous hearts, and
ecstatic devotion; and all they aim at is, to pray with passion, and think of heaven with pleasure, and to
be affected with those kind and melting expressions wherewith they court their Saviour, till they
persuade themselves they are mightily in love with him, and from thence assume a great confidence of
their salvation, which they esteem the chief of Christian graces. Thus are these things which have any
resemblance of piety, and at the best are but means of obtaining it, or particular exercises of it,
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frequently mistaken for the whole of religion: nay, sometimes wickedness and vice pretend to that
name. I speak not now of those gross impieties wherewith the Heathens were wont to worship their
gods. There are but too many Christians who would consecrate their vices, and follow their corrupt
affections, whose ragged humor and sullen pride must pass for Christian severity; whose fierce wrath,
and bitter rage against their enemies, must be called holy zeal; whose petulancy towards their superiors,
or rebellion against their governors, must have the name of Christian courage and resolution.
WHAT RELIGION IS.
But certainly religion is quite another thing, and they who are acquainted with it will entertain far
different thoughts, and disdain all those shadows and false imitations of it. They know by experience
that true religion is a union of the soul with God, a real participation of the divine nature, the very image
of God drawn upon the soul, or, in the apostle’s phrase, “It is Christ formed within us.”—Briefly, I know
not how the nature of religion can be more fully expressed, than by calling it a Divine Life: and under
these terms I shall discourse of it, showing first, how it is called a life; and then, how it is termed divine.
THE PERMANENCY AND STABILITY OF RELIGION.
I choose to express it by the name of life, first, because of its permanency and stability. Religion it not a
sudden start, or passion of the mind, not though it should rise to the height of a rapture, and seem to
transport a man to extraordinary performances. There are few but have convictions of the necessity of
doing something for the salvation of their souls, which may push them forward some steps with a great
deal of seeming haste; but anon they flag and give over. They were in a hot mood, but now they are
cooled; they did shoot forth fresh and high, but are quickly withered, because they had no root in
themselves. These sudden fits may be compared to the violent and convulsive motions of bodies newly
beheaded, caused by the agitations of the animal spirits, after the soul is departed, which, however
violent and impetuous, can be of no long continuance; whereas the motions of holy souls are constant
and regular, proceeding from a permanent and lively principle. It is true, this divine life continueth not
always in that same strength and vigor, but many times suffers sad decays; and holy men find greater
difficulty in resisting temptations, and less alacrity in the performance of their duties. Yet it is not quite
extinguished, nor are they abandoned to the power of those corrupt affections, which sway and verrule
the rest of the world.
THE FREEDOM AND UNCONSTRAINEDNESS OF RELIGION.
Again, religion may be designed by the name of life, because it is an inward, free, and self-moving
principle: and those who have made progress in it, are not actuated only by external motives, driven
merely by threatenings, nor bribed by promises, nor constrained by laws; but are powerfully inclined to
that which is good, and delight in the performance of it. The love which a pious man bears to God and
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goodness, is not so much by virtue of a command enjoining him so to do, as by a new nature instructing
and prompting him to it; nor doth he pay his devotions as an unavoidable tribute only to appease the
divine justice, or quiet his clamorous conscience; but those religious exercises are the proper
emanations of the divine life, the natural employments of the new-born soul. He prays, and gives
thanks, and repents, not only because these things are commanded, but rather because he is sensible of
his wants, and of the divine goodness, and of the folly and misery of a sinful life. His charity is not forced,
nor his alms extorted from him; his love makes him willing to give; and though there were no outward
obligation, his heart would devise liberal things. Injustice or intemperance, and all other vices, are as
contrary to his temper and constitution, as the basest actions are to the most generous spirit, and
impudence and scurrility to those who are naturally modest. So that I may well say with St. John,
“Whosoever is born of God, doth not commit sin: for his seed remaineth in him, and he cannot sin,
because he is born of God.” Though holy and religious persons do much eye the law of God, and have a
great regard unto it, yet it is not so much the sanction of the law, as its reasonableness, and purity, and
goodness, which do prevail with them. They account it excellent and desirable in itself, and that in
keeping of it there is great reward; and that divine love wherewith they are actuated, makes them
become a law unto themselves:
Quis legem det amantibus?
Major est amor lex ipse sibi.
Who shall prescribe a law to those that love?
Love's a more powerful law which doth them move.
In a word, what our blessed Saviour said of himself, is in some measure applicable to his followers, that
“it is their meat and drink to do their Father’s will.” And, as the natural appetite is carried out toward
food, though we should not reflect on the necessity of it for the preservation of our lives, so they are
carried with a natural and unforced propension toward that which is good and commendable. It is true,
external motives are many times of great use to excite and stir up this inward principle, especially in its
infancy and weakness, when it is often so languid that the man himself can scarce discern it, hardly
being able to move one step forward but when he is pushed by his hopes or his fears, by the pressure of
an affliction, or the sense of a mercy, by the authority of the law, or the persuasion of others. Now, if
such a person be conscientious and uniform in his obedience, and earnestly groaning under the sense of
his dullness, and is desirous to perform his duties with more spirit and vigor, these are the first motions
of the divine life, which, though it be faint and weak, will surely be cherished by the influences of
heaven, and grow unto greater maturity. But he who is utterly destitute of this inward principle, and
doth not aspire to it, but contents himself with those performances whereunto he is prompted by
education or custom, by the fear of hell or carnal notions of heaven, can no more be accounted a
religious person, than a puppet can be called a man. This forced and artificial religion is commonly heavy
and languid, like the motion of a weight forced upward. It is cold and spiritless, like the uneasy
compliance of a wife married against her will, who carries it dutifully toward the husband whom she
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does not love, out of some sense of virtue or honour. Hence also this religion is scant and niggardly,
especially in those duties which do greatest violence to men’s carnal inclinations; and those slavish
spirits will be sure to do no more than is absolutely required. It is a law that compels them, and they will
be loath to go beyond what it stints them to; nay, they will ever be putting such glosses on it, as may
leave themselves the greatest liberty. Whereas, the spirit of true religion is frank and liberal—far from
such peevish and narrow reckoning; and he who hath given himself entirely unto God, will never think
he doth too much for him.
RELIGION A DIVINE PRINCIPLE.
By this time I hope it doth appear, that religion is with a great deal of reason termed a life, or vital
principle, and that it is very necessary to distinguish betwixt it and that obedience which is constrained,
and depends upon external causes. I come next to give an account why I designed it by the name of
Divine Life: and so it may be called, not only in regard of its fountain and original, having God for its
author, and being wrought in the souls of men by the power of his Holy Spirit; but also in regard of its
nature, religion being a resemblance of the divine perfections, the image of the Almighty shining in the
soul of man: nay, it is a real participation of his nature, it is a beam of the eternal light, a drop of that
infinite ocean of goodness; and they who are endowed with it may be said to have “God dwelling in
their souls, and Christ formed within them.”
WHAT THE NATURAL LIFE IS.
Before I descend to a more particular consideration of that divine life wherein true religion doth consist,
it will perhaps be fit to speak a little of that natural or animal life which prevails in those who are
strangers to the other: and by this I understand nothing else, but our inclination and propension
towards those things which are pleasing and acceptable to nature; or self-love issuing forth and
spreading itself into as many branches as men have several appetites and inclinations. The root and
foundation of the animal life, I reckon to be sense, taking it largely, as it is opposed unto faith, and
imports our perception and sensation of those things that are either grateful or troublesome to us. Now
these animal affections, considered in themselves, and as they are implanted in us by nature, are not
vicious or blamable; nay, they are instances of the wisdom of the Creator, furnishing his creatures with
such appetites as tend to the preservation and welfare of their lives. These are instead of a law unto the
brute beasts, whereby they are directed towards the ends for which they were made: but man being
made for higher purposes, and to be guided by more excellent laws, becomes guilty and criminal when
he is so far transported by the inclinations of this lower life as to violate his duty, or neglect the higher
and more noble designs of his creation. Our natural affections are not wholly to be extirpated and
destroyed, but only to be moderated and overruled by superior and more excellent principle. In a word,
the difference betwixt a religious and wicked man is, that in the one divine life bears sway, in the other
the animal life doth prevail.
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THE DIFFERENT TENDENCIES OF THE NATURAL LIFE.
But it is strange to observe unto what different courses this natural principle will sometimes carry those
who are wholly guided by it, according to the diverse circumstances that concur with it to determine
them; and then, not considering this doth frequently occasion very dangerous mistakes, making men
think well of themselves by reason of that seeming difference which is betwixt them and others,
whereas, perhaps, their actions do all the while flow from one and the same original. If we consider the
natural temper and constitution of men’s souls, we shall find some to be airy, frolicsome, and light,
which make their behaviour extravagant and ridiculous; whereas others are naturally serious and
severe, and their whole carriage composed into such gravity as gains them a great deal of reverence and
esteem. Some are of a humorous, rugged, and morose temper, and can neither be pleased themselves,
nor endure that others should be so. But all are not born with such sour and unhappy dispositions; for
some persons have a certain sweetness and benignity rooted in their natures; and they find the greatest
pleasure in the endearments of society, and the mutual complacency of friends, and covet nothing more
than to have every body obliged to them: and it is well that nature hath provided this complexional
tenderness, to supply the defect of true charity in the world, and to incline men to do something
for one another’s welfare. Again, in regard to education, some have never been taught to follow any
other rules than those of pleasure or advantage; but others are so inured to observe the strictest rules
of decency and honour, and some instances of virtue, that they are hardly capable of doing any thing
which they have been accustomed to look upon as base and unworthy.
In fine, it is no small difference in the deportment of mere natural men, that doth arise from the
strength or weakness of their wit or judgment, and from their care and negligence in using them.
Intemperance and lust, injustice and oppression, and all those other impieties which abound in the
world, and render it so miserable, are the issues of self-love, the effect of the animal life, when it is
neither overpowered by religion, nor governed by natural reason: but if it once take hold of reason, and
get judgment and wit to be of its party, it will many times disdain the grosser sort of vices, and spring up
into fair imitations of virtue and goodness. If a man have but so much reason as to consider the
prejudice which intemperance and inordinate lust do bring unto his health, his fortune, and his
reputation, self-love may suffice to restrain him; and one may observe the rules of moral justice, in
dealing with others, as the best way to secure his own interest, and maintain his credit in the world. But
this is not all; for this natural principle, by the help of reason, may take a higher flight, and come nigher
the instances of piety and religion: it may incline a man to the diligent study of divine truths; for why
should not these, as well as other speculations, be pleasant and grateful to curious and inquisitive
minds? It may make men zealous in maintaining and propagating such opinions as they have espoused,
and be very desirous that others should submit unto their judgment, and approve the choice of religion
which they themselves have made. It may make them delight to hear and compose excellent discourses
about the matters of religion; for eloquence is very pleasant, whatever be the subject: nay, some it may
dispose to no small height of sensible devotion. The glorious things that are spoken of heaven, may
make even a carnal heart in love with it: the metaphors and similitudes made use of in Scripture, of
crowns and sceptres, and rivers of pleasure, &c. will easily affect a man’s fancy, and make him wish to
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be there, though he neither understand nor desire those spiritual pleasures which are described and
shadowed forth by them: and when such a person comes to believe that Christ has purchased those
glorious things for him, he may feel a kind of tenderness and affection towards so great a benefactor,
and imagine that he is mightily enamored with him, and yet all the while continue a stranger to the holy
temper and spirit of the blessed Jesus; and what hand the natural constitution may have in the
rapturous devotions of some melancholy persons, hath been excellently discovered of late by several
learned and judicious pens.
To conclude, there is nothing proper to make a man’s life pleasant, or himself eminent and conspicuous
in the world, but this natural principle, assisted by wit and reason, may prompt him to it: and though I
do not condemn those things in themselves, yet it concerns us nearly to know and consider their nature,
both that we may keep within due bounds, and also that we may learn never to value ourselves on the
account of such attainments, nor lay the stress of religion upon our natural appetites or performances.
WHEREIN THE DIVINE LIFE DOTH CONSIST.
It is now time to return to the consideration of that divine life whereof I was discoursing before, that life
which is hid with Christ in God; and therefore hath no glorious show or appearance in the world, and to
the natural man will seem a mean and insipid notion. As the animal life consisteth in that narrow and
confined love which is terminated on a man’s self, and in his propension towards those things that are
pleasing to nature; so the divine life stands in a universal and unbounded affection, and in the mastery
over our natural inclinations, that they may never be able to betray us to those things which we know to
be blamable. The root of the divine life is faith; the chief branches are love to God, charity to man,
purity, and humility: for, as an excellent person hath well observed, however these names be common
and vulgar, and make no extraordinary sound, yet do they carry such a mighty sense, that the tongue of
man or angel can pronounce nothing more weighty or excellent. Faith hath the same place in the divine
life, which sense hath in the natural, being indeed nothing else but a kind of sense, or feeling persuasion
of spiritual things; it extends itself unto all divine truths; but in our lapsed estate, it hath a peculiar
relation to the declaration of God’s mercy and reconcilableness to sinners through a Mediator; and
therefore, receiving its denomination from that principal object, is ordinarily termed faith in Jesus Christ.
The love of God is a delightful and affectionate sense of the divine perfections, which makes the soul
resign and sacrifice itself wholly unto him, desiring above all things to please him, and delighting in
nothing so much as in fellowship and communion with him, and being ready to do or suffer any thing for
his sake, or at his pleasure. Though this affection may have its first rise from the favors and mercies of
God toward ourselves, yet doth it, in its growth and progress, transcend such particular considerations,
and ground itself on his infinite goodness, manifested in all the works of creation and providence. A soul
thus possessed with divine love, must needs be enlarged, toward all mankind, in a sincere and
unbounded affection, because of the relation they have to God, being his creatures, and having
something of his image stamped upon them; and this is that charity I named as the second branch of
religion, and under which all the parts of justice, all the duties we owe to our neighbour, are eminently
comprehended: for he who doth truly love all the world, will be nearly concerned in the interest of every
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one; and so far from wronging or injuring any person, that he will resent any evil that befals others, as if
it happened to himself.
By purity, I understand a due abstractedness from the body, and mastery over the inferior appetites; or
such a temper and disposition of mind, as makes a man despise and abstain from all pleasures and
delights of sense or fancy, which are sinful in themselves, or tend to extinguish or lessen our relish of
more divine and intellectual pleasures; which doth also infer a resoluteness to undergo all those
hardships he may meet with in the performance of his duty; so that not only chastity and temperance,
but also Christian courage and magnanimity, may come under this head.
Humility imports a deep sense of our own meanness, with hearty and affectionate acknowledgment of
our owing all that we are to the divine bounty; which is always accompanied with a profound
submission to the will of God, and great deadness toward the glory of the world and applause of men.
These are the highest perfections that either men or angels are capable of—the very foundation of
heaven laid in the soul; and he who hath attained them, needs not desire to pry into the hidden rolls of
God’s decrees, or search the volumes of heaven to know what is determined about his everlasting
condition; but he may find a copy of God’s thoughts concerning him, written in his own breast. His love
to God may give him assurance of God’s favour to him; and those beginnings of happiness, which he
feels in the conformity of the powers of his soul to the nature of God, and compliance with his will, are a
sure pledge that his felicity shall be perfected, and continued to all eternity; and it is not without reason
that one said, “I had rather see the real impressions of a God-like nature upon my own soul, than have a
vision from heaven, or an angel sent to tell me that my name was enrolled in the book of life.”
RELIGION BETTER UNDERSTOOD BY ACTIONS THAN BY WORDS.
When we have said all that we can, the secret mysteries of a new nature and divine life can never be
sufficiently expressed: language and words cannot reach them; nor can they be truly understood but by
those souls that are enkindled within, and awakened unto the sense and relish of spiritual things: “There
is a spirit in man; and the inspiration of the Almighty giveth this understanding.” The power and life of
religion may be better expressed in actions than in words; because actions are more lively things, and do
better represent the inward principle whence they proceed; and, therefore, we may take the best
measure of those gracious endowments from the deportment of those in whom they reside; especially
as they are perfectly exemplified in the holy life of our blessed Saviour, a main part of whose business in
this world was to teach, by his practice, what he did require of others,—and to make his own
conversation an exact resemblance of those unparalleled rules which he prescribed; so that if ever true
goodness was visible to mortal eyes, it was then, when his presence did beautify and illustrate this lower
world.
DIVINE LOVE EXEMPLIFIED IN OUR SAVIOUR:
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His diligence in doing God’s Will and His patience in bearing it. That sincere and devout affection
wherewith his blessed soul did constantly burn towards his heavenly Father, did express itself in an
entire resignation to his will; it was his very “meat to do the will, and finish the work of him that sent
him.” This was the exercise of his childhood, and the constant employment of his riper age. He spared
no travel or pains while he was about his Father’s business, but took such infinite content and
satisfaction in the performance of it, that when, being faint and weary with his journey, he rested
himself on Jacob’s well, and entreated water of the Samaritan woman. The success of his conference
with her, and the accession that was made to the kingdom of God, filled his mind with such delight, as
seemed to have redounded to his very body, refreshing his spirits, and making him forget the thirst
whereof he complained before, and refuse the meat which he had sent his disciples to buy. Nor was he
less patient and submissive in suffering the will of God, than diligent in the doing of it: he endured the
sharpest afflictions and extremist miseries that ever were inflicted on any mortal, without repining
thought, or discontented word: for though he was far from a stupid insensibility, or a fantastic or stoical
obstinacy, and had as quick a sense of pain as other men, and the deepest apprehension of what he was
to suffer in his soul, (as his bloody sweat, and the sore amazement and sorrow which he professed, do
abundantly declare,) yet did he entirely submit to that severe disposition of providence, and willingly
acquiesced in it.
And he prayed to God, that “if it were possible,” (or, as one of the Evangelists hath it, “if he were
willing,”) “that cup might be removed:” yet he gently added, “nevertheless, not my will, but thine be
done.” Of what strange importance are the expressions, John xii. 27. where he first acknowledgeth the
anguish of his spirit, “Now is my soul troubled,” (which would seem to produce a kind of demur,) “and
what shall I say?” And then he goes on to deprecate his sufferings, “Father, save me from this hour;”
which he had no sooner uttered, but he doth, as it were, on second thoughts, recall it in these words,
“But for this cause came I into the world;” and concludes, “Father, glorify thy name.” Now, we must not
look on this as any levity, or blameable weakness in the blessed Jesus: he knew all along what he was to
suffer, and did most resolutely undergo it; but it shows us the inconceivable weight and pressure that he
was to bear, which, being so afflicting, and contrary to nature, he could not think of without terror; yet
considering the will of God, and the glory which was to redound from him thence, he was not only
content, but desirous to suffer it.
OUR SAVIOUR'S CONSTANT DEVOTION.
Another instance of his love to God was his delight in conversing with him by prayer, which made him
frequently retire himself from the world, and, with the greatest devotion and pleasure, spend whole
nights in that heavenly exercise, though he had not sins to confess, and but few secular interests to pray
for; which, alas! are almost the only things that are wont to drive us to our devotions. Nay, we may say
his whole life was a kind of prayer; a constant course of communion with God: if the sacrifice was not
always offering, yet was the fire still kept alive; nor was ever the blessed Jesus surprised with that
dulness, or tepidity of spirit, which we must many times wrestle with before we can be fit for the
exercise of devotion.
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OUR SAVIOR’S CHARITY TO MEN.
In the second place, I should speak of his love and charity toward all men: but he who would express it,
must transcribe the history of the gospel, and comment upon it; for scarce any thing is recorded to have
been done or spoken by him, which was not designed for the good and advantage of some one or
other.—All his miraculous works were instances of his goodness as well as his power; and they benefited
those on whom they were wrought, as well as they amazed the beholders. His charity was not confined
to his kindred or relations; nor was all his kindness swallowed up in the endearment of that peculiar
friendship which he carried toward his beloved disciple; but every one was his friend who obeyed his
holy commands, John xv. 14. And whosoever did the will of his Father, the same was to him as his
brother, sister, and mother.
Never was any unwelcome to him who came with an honest intention, nor did he deny any request
which tended to the good of those that asked it: so that what was spoken of that Roman emperor, who,
for his goodness, was called the darling of mankind, was really performed by him, that never any
departed from him with a heavy countenance, except that rich youth, (Mark x.) who was sorry to hear
that the kingdom of heaven stood at so high a rate, and that he could not save his soul and his money
too. And certainly it troubled our Saviour, to see that when a price was in his hand to get wisdom, yet he
had no heart to it. The ingenuity that appeared in his first address had already procured some kindness
for him; for it is said, “and Jesus, beholding him, loved him:” but must he, for his sake, cut out a new way
to heaven, and alter the nature of things, which make it impossible that a covetous man should be
happy?
And what shall I speak of his meekness, who could encounter the monstrous ingratitude and
dissimulation of that miscreant who betrayed him, in no harsher terms than these: “Judas, betrayest
thou the Son of man with a kiss?” What farther evidence could we desire of his fervent and unbounded
charity, than that he willingly laid down his life even for his most bitter enemies; and mingling his
prayers with his blood, besought the Father that his death might not be laid to their charge, but might
become the means of eternal life to those very persons who procured it?
OUR SAVIOUR'S PURITY.
The third branch of the divine life is purity, which, as I said consists in a neglect of worldly enjoyment
accommodations, in a resolute enduring of all such troubles as we meet with in doing of our duty. Now
surely, if ever any person was wholly dead to all the pleasures of the natural life, it was the blessed
Jesus, who seldom tasted them when they came in his way; but never stepped out of his road to seek
them. Though he allowed others the comforts of wedlock, and honoured marriage with his presence,
yet he chose the severity of a virgin life, and never knew the nuptial bed: and though at the same time
he supplied the want of wine with a miracle, yet he would not work one for the relief of his own hunger
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in the wilderness; so gracious and divine was the temper of his soul, in allowing to others such lawful
gratifications as himself thought good to abstain from, and supplying not only their more extreme and
pressing necessities, but also their smaller and less considerable wants. We many times hear of our
Saviour’s sighs, and groans, and tears; but never that he laughed; and but once that he rejoiced in spirit:
so that through his whole life, he did exactly answer that character given of him by the prophet of old,
that he was “a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.” Nor were the troubles and
disaccommodations of his life other than matters of choice; for never did there any appear on the stage
of the world with greater advantages to have raised himself to the highest secular felicity. He who would
bring together such a prodigious number of fishes into his disciples’ net, and, at another time, receive
that tribute from a fish which he was to pay to the temple, might easily have made himself the richest
person in the world. Nay, without any money, he could have maintained an army powerful enough to
have justled Cesar out of his throne, having oftener than once fed several thousands with a few loaves
and small fishes; but, to show how small esteem he had of all the enjoyments in the world, he chose to
live in so poor and mean a condition, “that though the foxes had holes, and the birds of the air had
nests, yet he, who was Lord and heir of all things, had not whereon to lay his head.” He did not frequent
the courts of princes, nor affect the acquaintance or converse of great ones; but, being reputed the son
of a carpenter, he had fishermen, and such other poor people for his companions, and lived at such a
rate as suited with the meanness of that condition.
OUR SAVIOUR'S HUMILITY.
And thus I am brought unawares to speak of his humility, the last branch of the divine life; wherein he
was a most eminent pattern to us, that we might “learn of him to be meek and lowly in heart.” I shall
not now speak of that infinite condescension of the eternal Son of God, in taking our nature upon him,
but only reflect on our Saviour’s lowly and humble deportment while he was in the world. He had none
of those sins and imperfections which may justly humble the best of men; but he was so entirely
swallowed up with a deep sense of the infinite perfections of God, that he appeared as nothing in his
own eyes; I mean so far as he was a creature. He considered those eminent perfections which shined in
his blessed soul, not as his own, but the gifts of God; and therefore assumed nothing to himself for
them, but, with the profoundest humility, renounced all pretences to them. Hence did he refuse that
ordinary compellation of “Good Master,” when addressed to his human nature, by one who, it seems,
was ignorant of his divinity: “Why callest thou me good? there is none good but God only;” as if he had
said, ‘The goodness of any creature (and such only thou takest me to be) is not worthy to be named or
taken notice of. It is God alone who is originally and essentially good.’ He never made use of his
miraculous power for vanity or ostentation. He would not gratify the curiosity of the Jews with a sign
from heaven, some prodigious appearance in the air; nor would he follow the advice of his countrymen
and kindred, who would have all his great works performed in the eyes of the world, for gaining him the
greater fame. But when his charity had prompted him to the relief of the miserable, his humility made
him many times enjoin the concealment of the miracle; and when the glory of God, and the design for
which he came into the world, required the publication of them, he ascribeth the honour of all to his
Father, telling them, “that of himself he was able to do nothing.”
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I cannot insist on all the instances of humility in his deportment towards men: his withdrawing himself
when they would have made him a king; his subjection, not only to his blessed mother, but to her
husband, during his younger years; and his submission to all the indignities and affronts which his rude
and malicious enemies did put upon him. The history of his holy life, recorded by those who convened
with him, is full of such passages as these; and indeed the serious and attentive study of it is the best
way to get right measures of humility, and all the other parts of religion which I have been endeavouring
to desribe.
But now, that I may lessen your trouble of reading a long letter, by making some pauses in it, let me
here subjoin a prayer, that might be proper when one, who had formally entertained some false notions
of religion, begins to discover what it is.
A PRAYER.
Infinite and eternal Majesty! Author and Fountain of being and blessedness! how little do we poor sinful
creatures know of thee, or the way to serve and please thee! We talk of religion, and pretend unto it;
but, alas! how few are there that know and consider what it means! How easily do we mistake the
affections of our nature, and issues of self-love, for those divine graces which alone can render us
acceptable in thy sight! It may justly grieve me to consider, that I should have wandered so long, and
contented myself so often with vain shadows and false images of piety and religion; yet I cannot but
acknowledge and adore thy goodness, who hast been pleased, in some measure, to open mine eyes,
and let me see what it is at which I ought to aim. I rejoice to consider what mighty improvements my
nature is capable of, and what a divine temper of spirit doth shine in those whom thou art pleased to
choose, and causest to approach unto thee. Blessed be thine infinite mercy, who sentest thine own Son
to dwell among men, and instruct them by his example as well as his laws, giving them a perfect pattern
of what they ought to be. O that the holy life of the blessed Jesus may be always in my thoughts, and
before mine eyes, till I receive a deep sense and impression of those excellent graces that shined so
eminently in him! And let me never cease my endeavours, till that new and divine nature prevail in my
soul, and Christ be formed within me.
PART II
THE EXCELLENCY AND ADVANTAGE OF RELIGION.
And now, my dear friend, having discovered the nature of true religion, before I proceed any further, it
will not perhaps be unfit to fix our meditations a little on the excellency and advantages of it, that we
may be excited to the more vigorous and diligent prosecution of those methods whereby we may attain
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so great a felicity. But, alas! what words shall we find to express that inward satisfaction, those hidden
pleasures, which can never be rightly understood but by those holy souls that feel them? “A stranger
intermeddleth not with their joys.” Holiness is the right temper, the vigorous and healthful constitution
of the soul. Its faculties had formerly been enfeebled and disordered, so that they could not exercise
their natural functions; it had wearied itself with endless tossings and rollings, and was never able to
find any rest. Now that distemper being removed, it feels itself well; there is due harmony in its
faculties, and a sprightly vigor possesseth every part. The understanding can discern what is good, and
the will can cleave to it. The affections are not tied to the motions of sense and the influence of external
objects, but they are stirred by more divine impressions, are touched by a sense of invisible things.
THE EXCELLENCY OF DIVINE LOVE.
Let us descend, if you please, into a nearer and more particular view of religion, in those several
branches of it which were named before. Let us consider that love and affection wherewith holy souls
are united to God, that we may see what excellency and felicity is involved in it. Love is that powerful
and prevalent passion, by which all the faculties and inclinations of the soul are determined, and on
which both its perfection and happiness depend. The worth and excellency of a soul is to be measured
by the object of its love. He who loveth mean and sordid things doth thereby become base and vile, but
a noble and well-placed affection doth advance and improve the spirit into a conformity with the
perfections which it loves. The images of these do frequently present themselves unto the mind, and, by
a secret force and energy, insinuate into the very constitution of the soul, and mould and fashion it unto
their own likeness. Hence we may see how easily lovers or friends do slide into the imitation of the
persons whom they affect; and how, even before they are aware, they begin to resemble them, not only
in the more considerable instances of their deportment, but also in their voice and gesture, and that
which we call their mien or air; and certainly we should as well transcribe the virtues and inward
beauties of the soul, if they were the object and motive of our love. But now, as all the creatures we
converse with have their mixture and alloy, we are always in hazard to be sullied and corrupted by
placing our affections on them.
Passion doth easily blind our eyes, so that we first approve, and then imitate the things that are
blamable in them. The true way to improve and ennoble our souls is, by fixing our love on the divine
perfections, that we may have them always before us, and derive an impression of them on ourselves;
and, “beholding with open face, as in a glass, the glory of the Lord, we may be changed into the same
image, from glory to glory.” He who, with a generous and holy ambition, hath raised his eyes towards
that uncreated beauty and goodness, and fixed his affection there, is quite of another spirit, of a more
excellent and heroic temper, than the rest of the world, and cannot but infinitely disdain all mean and
unworthy things; will not entertain any low or base thoughts which might disparage his high and noble
pretensions. Love is the greatest and most excellent thing we are masters of and therefore it is folly and
baseness to bestow it unworthily. It is indeed the only thing we can call our own: other things may be
taken from us by violence, but none can ravish our love. If any thing else be counted ours by giving our
love, we give all, so far as we make over our hearts and wills, by which we possess our other
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enjoyments. It is not possible to refuse him any thing, to whom by love we have given ourselves; nay,
since it is the privilege of gifts to receive their value from the mind of the giver, and not to be measured
by the event, but by the desire, he who loveth may, in some sense, be said not only to bestow all that he
hath, but all things else which may make the beloved person happy; since he doth heartily wish them,
and would really give them if they were in his power: in which sense it is that one makes to say, “That
divine love doth, in a manner, give God unto himself, by the complacency it takes in the happiness and
perfection of his nature.” But though this may seem too strained an expression, certainly love is the
worthiest present we can offer unto God, and it is extremely debased when we bestow it another way.
When this affection is misplaced, it doth often vent itself in such expressions as point at its genuine and
proper object, and insinuate where it ought to be placed. The flattering and blasphemous terms of
adoration, wherein men do sometimes express their passion, are the language of that affection which
was made and designed for God; as he who is accustomed to speak to some great person, doth perhaps,
unawares, accost another with those titles he was wont to give him; but certainly that passion which
accounts its object a deity, ought to be bestowed on him who really is so. Those unlimited submissions,
which would debase the soul if directed to any other, will exalt and ennoble it when placed here. Those
chains and cords of love are infinitely more glorious than liberty itself; this slavery is more noble than all
the empires in the world.
THE ADVANTAGES OF DIVINE LOVE.
Again, As divine love doth advance and elevate the soul, so it is that alone which can make it happy. The
highest and most ravishing pleasures, the most solid and substantial delights that human nature is
capable of, are those which arise from the endearments of a well-placed and successful affection. That
which embitters love, and makes it ordinarily a very troublesome and hurtful passion, is the placing it on
those who have not worth enough to deserve it, or affection and gratitude to requite it, or whose
absence may deprive us of the pleasure of their converse, or their miseries occasion our trouble. To all
these evils are they exposed, whose chief and supreme affection is placed on creatures like themselves;
but the love of God delivers us from them all.
THE WORTH OF THE OBJECT.
First, I say, love must needs be miserable, and full of trouble and disquietude, when there is not worth
and excellency enough in the object to answer the vastness of its capacity.
So eager and violent a passion cannot but fret and torment the spirit, when it finds not wherewith to
satisfy its cravings; and, indeed, so large and unbounded in its nature, that it must be extremely pinched
and straitened, when confined to any creature: nothing below an infinite good can afford it room to
stretch itself, and exert its vigor and activity. What! is a little skin-deep beauty, or some small degrees of
goodness, to match or satisfy a passion which was made for God: designed to embrace an infinite good?
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No wonder lovers do so hardly suffer any rival, and do not desire that others should approve their
passions by imitating it; they know the scantiness and narrowness of the good which they love, that it
cannot suffice two, being in effect too little for one. Hence love, “which is as strong as death;” occasions
“jealousy which is as cruel as the grave,” the coals whereof are coals of fire, which hath a most violent
flame.
But divine love hath no mixture of this gall. When once the soul is fixed on that supreme and allsufficient good, it finds so much perfection and goodness, as doth not only answer and satisfy its
affection, but master and overpower it too. It finds all its love to be too faint and languid for such a
noble object, and is only sorry that it can command no more. It wishes for the flames of a seraph, and
longs for the time when it shall be wholly melted and dissolved into love; and because it can do so little
itself, it desires the assistance of the whole creation, that angels and men would conquer with it the
admiration and love of those infinite perfections.
THE CERTAINTY TO BE BELOVED AGAIN.
Again, Love is accompanied with trouble, when it misses a suitable return of affection. Love is the most
valuable thing we can bestow, and by giving it, we do, in effect, give all that we have; and therefore it
must needs be afflicting to find so great a gift despised, that the present which one hath made of his
whole heart, cannot prevail to obtain any return. Perfect love is a kind of self-dereliction, a wandering
out of ourselves; it is a kind of voluntary death, wherein the lover dies to himself, and all his own
interests, nor thinking of them, nor caring for them any more, and minding nothing but how he may
please and gratify the party whom he loves. Thus he is quite undone, unless he meets with reciprocal
affection; he neglects himself, and the other hath no regard to him: but if he be beloved, he is revived,
as it were, and liveth in the soul and care of the person whom he loves; and now he begins to mind his
own concernments, not so much because they are his, as because the beloved is pleased to own an
interest in them: he becomes dear unto himself, because he is so unto the other.
But why should I enlarge in so known a matter? Nothing can be more clear than that the happiness of
love depends on the return it meets with: and herein the divine lover hath unspeakably the advantage,
having placed his affection on him whose nature is love, whose goodness is as infinite as his being,
whose mercy prevented us when we were his enemies, therefore cannot choose but embrace us when
we are become his friends. It is utterly impossible that God should deny his love to a soul wholly
devoted to him, and which desires nothing so much as to serve and please him; he cannot disdain his
own image, nor the heart in which it is engraven. Love is all the tribute which we can pay him, and it is
the sacrifice which he will not despise.
THE PRESENCE OF THE BELOVED PERSON.
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Another thing which disturbs the pleasure of love, and renders it a miserable and unquiet passion, is
absence and separation from those we love. It is not without a sensible affliction that friends do part,
though for some little time: it is sad to be deprived of that society which is so delightful; our life
becomes tedious, being spent in an impatient expectation of the happy hour wherein we may meet
again: but if death has made the separation, as some time or other it must, this occasions a grief scarce
to be paralleled by all the misfortunes of human life, and wherein we may pay dear enough for the
comforts of our friendship. But O how happy are those who have placed their love on him who can
never be absent from them! They need but open their eyes, and they shall every where behold the
traces of his presence and glory, and converse with him whom their soul loveth; and this makes the
darkest prison, or wildest desert, not only supportable, but delightful to them.
THE DIVINE LOVE MAKES US PARTAKE OF AN INFINITE HAPPINESS.
In fine, A lover is miserable, if the person whom be loveth be so. They who have made an exchange of
hearts by love, get thereby an interest in one another’s happiness and misery; and this makes love a
troublesome passion, when placed on earth. The most fortunate person hath grief enough to mar the
tranquility of his friend; and it is hard to hold out, when we are attacked on all hands, and suffer not
only in our own person, but in another’s. But if God were the object of our love, we should share in an
infinite happiness, without any mixture or possibility of diminution; we should rejoice to behold the
glory of God, and receive comfort and pleasure from all the praises wherewith men and angels do extol
him. It should delight us, beyond all expression, to consider, that the beloved of our souls is infinitely
happy in himself, and that all his enemies cannot shake or unsettle his throne: “that our God is in the
heavens, and doth whatever he pleaseth.”
Behold, on what sure foundation his happiness is built, whose soul is possessed with divine love, whose
will is transformed into the will of God, and whose great desire is, that his Maker should be pleased! O
the peace, the rest, the satisfaction that attends such a temper of mind!
HE THAT LOVETH GOD FINDS SWEETNESS IN EVERY DISPENSATION.
What an infinite pleasure must it needs be, thus, as it were, to lose ourselves in him, and, being
swallowed up in the overcoming sense of his goodness, to offer ourselves a living sacrifice, always
ascending unto him in flames of love! Never doth a soul know what solid joy and substantial pleasure is,
till once, being weary of itself, it renounce all propriety, give itself up unto the Author of its being, and
feel itself become a hallowed and devoted thing, and can say, from an inward sense and feeling, “My
beloved is mine,” (I account all his interest mine own,) “and I am his:” I am content to be any thing for
him, and care not for myself, but that I may serve him. A person, moulds into this temper, would find
pleasure in all the dispensations of Providence: temporal enjoyments would have another relish, when
he should taste the divine goodness in them, and consider them as tokens of love, sent by his dearest
Lord and Maker: and chastisements, though they be not joyous, but grievous, would hereby lose their
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sting, the rod as well as the staff would comfort him: he would snatch a kiss from the hand that was
smiting him, and gather sweetness from that severity; nay, he would rejoice, that though God did not
the will of such a worthless and foolish creature as himself, yet he did his own will, and accomplished his
own designs, which are infinitely more holy and wise.
THE DUTIES OF RELIGION ARE DELIGHTFUL TO HIM.
The exercises of religion, which to others are insipid and tedious, do yield the highest pleasures and
delight to souls possessed with divine love. They rejoice when they are called “to go up to the house of
the Lord,” that they may “see his power and his glory, as they have formerly seen it in the sanctuary.”
They never think themselves so happy, as when, having retired from the world, and gotten free from the
noise and hurry of affairs, and silenced all their clamorous passions (those troublesome guests within,)
they have placed themselves in the presence of God, and entertain fellowship and communion with
him: they delight to adore his perfections, and recount his favors,—and to protest their affection to him,
and tell him a thousand times that they love him; to lay their troubles or wants before him, and
disburden their hearts in his bosom. Repentance itself is a delightful exercise, when it floweth from the
principle of love. There is a secret sweetness which accompanies those tears of remorse, those meltings
and relentings of a soul returning unto God, and lamenting its former unkindness.
The severities of a holy life, and that constant watch which we are obliged to keep over our hearts and
ways, are very troublesome to those who are only ruled and acted by an external law, and have no law
in their minds inclining them to the performance of their duty: but where divine love possesseth the
soul, it stands as sentinel to keep out every thing that may offend the beloved, and doth disdainfully
repulse those temptations which assault it: it complies cheerfully, not only with explicit commands, but
with the most secret notices of the beloved’s pleasure, and is ingenious in discovering what will be most
grateful and acceptable unto him: it makes mortification and self-denial change their harsh and dreadful
names, and become easy, sweet, and delightful things.
But I find this part of my letter swell bigger than I designed, (indeed who would not be tempted to dwell
on so pleasant a theme!) I shall endeavour to compensate it by brevity in the other points.
THE EXCELLENCY OF CHARITY.
The next branch of the Divine Life, is a universal charity and love. The excellency of this grace will be
easily acknowledged; for what can be more noble and generous than a heart enlarged to embrace the
whole world, whose wishes and designs are leveled at the good and welfare of the universe, which
considereth every man’s interest as its own?
He who loveth his neighbour as himself, can never entertain any base or injurious thought, or be
wanting in expressions of bounty. He had rather suffer a thousand wrongs, than be guilty of one; and
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never accounts himself happy, but when some one or other hath been benefited by him: the malice or
ingratitude of men is not able to resist his love: he overlooks their injuries, and pities their folly, and
overcomes their evil with good: and never designs any other revenge against his most bitter and
malicious enemies, than to put all objections he can upon them, whether they will or not. Is it any
wonder that such a person be reverenced and admired, and accounted the darling of mankind? This
inward goodness and benignity of spirit reflects a certain sweetness and serenity upon the very
countenance, and makes it amiable and lovely: it inspires the soul with a holy resolution and courage,
and makes it capable of enterprising and effecting the highest things. Those heroic actions which we are
wont to read with admiration, have, for the most part, been the effects of the love of one’s country, or
of particular friendships: and, certainly, a more extensive and universal affection must be much more
powerful and efficacious.
THE PLEASURE THAT ATTENDS CHARITY.
Again, As charity flows from a noble and excellent temper, so it is accompanied with the greatest
satisfaction and pleasure: it delights the soul to feel itself thus enlarged, and to be delivered from those
disquieting, as well as deformed passions, malice, hatred, and envy; and become gentle, sweet, benign.
Had I my choice of all things that might tend to my present felicity, I would pitch upon this, to have my
heart possessed with the greatest kindness and affection towards all men in the world. I am sure this
would make me partake in all the happiness of others: their inward endowments and outward
prosperity; every thing that did benefit and advantage them would afford me comfort and pleasure: and
though I should frequently meet with occasions of grief and compassion, yet there is a sweetness in
commiseration, which makes it infinitely more desirable than a stupid insensibility: and the
consideration of that infinite goodness and wisdom which governs the world, might repress any
excessive trouble for particular calamities that happen in it: and the hopes or possibility of men’s after
happiness, might moderate their sorrow for their present misfortunes. Certainly, next to the love and
enjoyment of God, that ardent charity and affection wherewith blessed souls do embrace one another,
is justly to be reckoned as the greatest felicity of those regions above; and did it universally prevail in the
world, it would anticipate that blessedness, and make us taste of the joys of heaven upon earth.
THE EXCELLENCY OF PURITY.
That which I named as a third branch of religion, was purity; and you may remember I described it to
consist in a contempt of sensual pleasures, and resoluteness to undergo those troubles and pains we
may meet with in the performance of our duty. Now, the naming of this may suffice to recommend it as
a most noble and excellent quality. There is no slavery so base, as that whereby a man becomes a
drudge to his own lusts: nor any victory so glorious, as that which is obtained over them. Never can that
person be capable of any thing that is noble or worthy, who is sunk in the gross and seculent pleasures
of sense, or bewitched with the light and airy gratifications of fancy: but the religious soul is of a more
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sublime and divine temper; it knows it was made for higher things, and scorns to step aside one foot out
of the ways of holiness, for the obtaining any of these.
THE DELIGHT AFFORDED BY PURITY.
And this purity is accompanied with a great deal of pleasure. Whatsoever defiles the soul disturbs it too;
all impure delights have a sting in them, and leave smart and trouble behind them. Excess and
intemperance, and all inordinate lusts, are so much enemies to the health of the body, and the interest
of this present life, that a little consideration might oblige any rational man to forbear them on that very
score; and if the religious person go higher, and do not only abstain from noxious pleasures, but neglect
those that are innocent, this is not to be looked upon as any violent and uneasy restraint, but as the
effect of better choice, that their minds are taken up in the pursuit of more sublime and refined delights,
so that they cannot be concerned in these. Any person that is engaged in a violent and passionate
affection, will easily forget his ordinary gratifications, will be little curious about his diet, or his bodily
ease, or the divertissements he was wonted to delight in. No wonder then, if souls overpowered with
divine love despise inferior pleasures, and be almost ready to grudge the body its necessary attendance
for the common accommodations of life, judging all these impertinent to their main happiness, those
higher enjoyments they are pursuing.
As for the hardships they may meet with, they rejoice in them, as opportunities to exercise and testify
their affection; and since they are able to do so little for God, they are glad of the honour to suffer for
him.
THE EXCELLENCY OF HUMILITY.
The last branch of religion is humility; and however to vulgar and carnal eyes this may appear an abject,
base, and despicable quality, yet really the soul of man is not capable of a higher and more noble
endowment. It is a silly ignorance that begets pride. But humility arises from a nearer acquaintance with
excellent things, which keeps men from doting on trifles, or admiring themselves because of some petty
attainments. Noble and well-educated souls have no such high opinion of riches, beauty, strength, and
other such like advantages, as to value themselves for them, or despise those that want them. And as
for inward worth and real goodness, the sense they have of the divine perfections, makes them think
very meanly of any thing they have hitherto attained, and be still endeavouring to surmount themselves,
and make nearer approaches to those infinite excellencies which they admire.
I know not what thoughts people may have of humility, but I see almost every person pretending to it,
and shunning such expressions and actions as may make them be accounted arrogant and
presumptuous, so that those who are most desirous of praise will be loathe to commend themselves.
What are those compliments and modes of civility, so frequent in our ordinary converse, but so many
protestations of the esteem of others, and the low thoughts we have of ourselves?
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And must not that humility be a noble and excellent endowment, when the very shadows of it are
accounted so necessary a part of good breeding?
THE PLEASURE AND SWEETNESS OF AN HUMBLE TEMPER.
Again, This grace is accompanied with a great deal of happiness and tranquility. The proud and arrogant
person is a trouble to all that converse with him, but most of all unto himself: every thing is enough to
vex him; but scarce any thing sufficient to content and please him. He is ready to quarrel with any thing
that falls out; as if he himself were such a considerable person, that God Almighty should do every thing
to gratify him, and all the creatures of heaven and earth should wait upon him, and obey his will. The
leaves of high trees do shake with every blast of wind; and every breath, every evil word will disquiet
and torment an arrogant man. But the humble person hath the advantage when he is despised, that
none can think more meanly of him than he doth of himself; and therefore he is not troubled at the
matter, but can easily bear those reproaches which wound the other to the soul. And withal, as he is less
affected with injuries, so indeed he is less obnoxious unto them. “Contention which cometh from pride,”
betrays a man into a thousand inconveniences, which those of a meek and lowly temper seldom meet
with. True and genuine humility begetteth both a veneration and love among all wise and discerning
persons, while pride defeats its own design, and deprives a man of that honour it makes him pretend to.
But as the chief exercises of humility are those which relate unto Almighty God, so these are
accompanied with the greatest satisfaction and sweetness. It is impossible to express the great pleasure
and delight which religious persons feel in the lowest prostration of their souls before God, when,
having a deep sense of the divine majesty and glory, they sink (if I may so speak) to the bottom of their
beings, and vanish and disappear in the presence of God, by a serious and affectionate acknowledgment
of their own nothingness, and the shortness and imperfections of their attainments; when they
understand the full sense and emphasis of the Psalmist’s exclamation, “Lord! what is man?” and can
utter it with the same affection. Never did any haughty and ambitious person receive the praises and
applauses of men with so much pleasure, as the humble and religious do renounce them: “Not unto us,
O Lord! not unto us, but unto thy name give glory, for thy mercy, and for thy truth’s sake.”
Thus I have spoken something of the excellencies and advantages of religion in its several branches; but
should be very injurious to the subject, did I pretend to have given any perfect account of it. Let us
acquaint ourselves with it, and experience will teach us more than all that ever hath been spoken or
written concerning it. But, if we may suppose the soul to be already awakened unto some longing
desires after so great a blessedness, it will be good to give them vent, and suffer them to issue forth in
some such aspirations as these:—
A PRAYER.
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Good God! what a mighty felicity is this to which we are called! How graciously hast thou joined our
duty and happiness together, and prescribed that for our work, the performance whereof is a great
reward! And shall such silly worms be advanced to so great a height? Wilt thou allow us to raise our eyes
to thee? Wilt thou admit and accept our affection? Shall we receive the impression of thy divine
excellencies, by beholding and admiring them,—and partake of thy infinite blessedness and glory, by
loving thee, and rejoicing in thee? O the happiness of those souls that have broken the fetters of selflove, and disentangled their affection from every narrow and particular good! whose understandings are
enlightened by thy Holy Spirit, and their wills enlarged to the extent of thine! who love thee above all
things, and all mankind for thy sake! I am persuaded, O God, I am persuaded, that I can never be happy,
till my carnal and corrupt affections be mortified, and the pride and vanity of my spirit be subdued, and
till I come seriously to despise the world, and think nothing of myself. But O when shall it once be? O
when wilt thou come unto me, and satisfy my soul with thy likeness, making me holy as thou art holy,
even in all manner of conversation? Hast thou given me a prospect of so great a felicity, and wilt thou
not bring me unto it? Hast thou excited these desires in my soul, and wilt thou not also satisfy them? O
teach me to do thy will, for thou art my God; thy Spirit is good, lead me unto the land of uprightness.
Quicken me, O Lord, for thy name’s sake, and perfect that which concerneth me: thy mercy, O Lord,
endureth for ever, forsake not the works of thine own hands.”
PART III
THE DESPONDENT THOUGHTS OF SOME NEWLY AWAKENED TO A RIGHT
SENSE OF THINGS.
I have hitherto considered wherein true religion doth consist, and how desirable a thing it is; but when
one sees how infinitely distant the common temper and frame of men is from it, he may perhaps be
ready to despond, and give over, and think it utterly impossible to be attained. He may sit down in
sadness, and bemoan himself, and say, in the anguish and bitterness of his spirit, “They are happy
indeed whose souls are awakened unto the divine life, who are thus renewed in the spirit of their minds;
but, alas! I am quite of another constitution, and am not able to effect so mighty a change. If outward
observances could have done the business, I might have hoped to acquit myself by diligence and care;
but since nothing but a new nature can serve the turn, what am I able to do? I could bestow all my
goods in oblations to God, or alms to the poor, but cannot command that love and charity, without
which this expense would profit me nothing. This gift of God cannot be purchased with money. If a man
should give all the substance of his house for love, it would utterly be contemned. I could pine and
macerate my body, and undergo many hardships and troubles; but I cannot get all my corruptions
starved, nor my affections wholly weaned from earthly things. There are still some worldly desires
lurking in my heart, and those vanities that I have shut out of the doors, are always getting in by the
windows. I am many times convinced of my own meanness, of the weakness of my body, and the far
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greater weakness of my soul; but this doth rather beget indignation and discontent, than true humility
in my spirit. And though I should come to think meanly of myself, yet I cannot endure that others should
think so too. In a word, when I reflect on my highest and most specious attainments, I have reason to
suspect, that they are all but the effects of nature, the issues of self-love acting under several disguises;
and this principle is so powerful, and so deeply rooted in me, that I can never hope to be delivered from
the dominion of it. I may toss and turn as a door on the hinges, but can never get clear off, or be quite
unhinged of self, which is still the centre of all my motions; so that all the advantage I can draw from the
discovery of religion, is but to see, at a huge distance, that felicity which I am not able to reach; like a
man in a shipwreck, who discerns the land, and envies the happiness of those who are there, but thinks
it impossible for himself to get ashore.”
THE UNREASONABLENESS OF THESE FEARS.
These, I say, or such like desponding thoughts, may arise in the minds of those persons who begin to
conceive somewhat more of the nature and excellency of religion than before.
They have spied the land, and seen that it is exceeding good, that it floweth with milk and honey; but
they find they have the children of Anak to grapple with, many powerful lusts and corruptions to
overcome, and they fear they shall never prevail against them. But why should we give way to such
discouraging suggestions? Why should we entertain such unreasonable fears, which damp our spirits
and weaken our hands, and augment the difficulties of our way? Let us encourage ourselves, my dear
friend, let us encourage ourselves with those mighty aids we are to expect in this spiritual warfare; for
greater is he that is for us, than all that rise up against us. “The eternal God is our refuge, and
underneath are the everlasting arms. Let us be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might,” for he
it is that shall “tread down our enemies.” God hath a tender regard unto the souls of men, and is
infinitely willing to promote their welfare.
He hath condescended to our weakness, and declared with an oath, that he hath no pleasure in our
destruction. There is no such thing as dispute or envy lodged in the bosom of that ever-blessed Being,
whose name and nature is Love. He created us at first in a happy condition; and now, when we are fallen
from it, “He hath laid help upon one that is mighty to save,” hath committed the care of our souls to no
meaner person than the Eternal Son of his love. It is he that is the Captain of our salvation, and what
enemies can be too strong for us when we are fighting under his banners? Did not the Son of God come
down from the bosom of his Father, and pitch his tabernacle amongst the sons of men, that he might
recover and propagate the divine life, and restore the image of God in their souls? All the mighty works
which he performed, all the sad afflictions which he sustained, had this for their scope and design; for
this did he labor and toil, for this did he bleed and die. “He was with child, he was in pain, and hath he
brought forth nothing but wind; hath he wrought no deliverance in the earth? Shall he not see of the
travail of his soul?” Certainly it is impossible that this great contrivance of heaven should prove abortive,
that such a mighty undertaking should fail and miscarry. It hath already been effectual for the salvation
of many thousands, who were once as far from the kingdom of heaven as we can suppose ourselves to
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be, and our “High Priest continueth for ever, and is able to save them to the uttermost that come unto
God by him.” He is tender and compassionate, he knoweth our infirmities, and had experience of our
temptations. “A bruised reed will he not break, and smoking flax will he not quench, till he send forth
judgment unto victory.” He hath sent out his Holy Spirit, whose sweet but powerful breathings are still
moving up and down in the world, to quicken and revive the souls of men, and awaken them unto the
sense and feeling of those divine things for which they were made, and is ready to assist such weak and
languishing creatures as we are, in our essays towards holiness and felicity: and when once it hath taken
hold of a soul, and kindled in it the smallest spark of divine love, it will be sure to preserve and cherish,
and bring it forth into a flame, “which many waters shall not quench, neither shall the floods be able to
drown it.” Whenever this day begins to dawn, “and the day-star to arise in the heart,” it will easily dispel
the powers of darkness, and make ignorance and folly, and all the corrupt and selfish affections of men,
flee away as fast before it as the shades of night, when the sun cometh out of his chambers: “For the
path of the just is as the shining light, which shineth more and more unto the perfect day. They shall go
on from strength to strength, till every one of them appear before God in Zion.”
Why should we think it impossible, that true goodness and universal love should ever come to sway and
prevail in our souls? Is not this their primitive state and condition, their native and genuine constitution,
as they came first from the hands of their Maker? Sin and corruption are but usurpers, and though they
have long kept possession, “yet from the beginning it was not so.” That inordinate self-love, which one
would think were rooted in our very being, and interwoven with the constitution of our nature, is
nevertheless of a foreign extraction, and had no place at all in the state of integrity. We have still so
much reason left as to condemn it; our understandings are easily convinced, that we ought to be wholly
devoted to him from whom we have our being, and to love him infinitely more than ourselves, who is
infinitely better than we; and our wills would readily comply with this, if they were not disordered and
put out of tune: and is not he who made our souls, able to rectify and mend them again? Shall we not be
able, by his assistance, to vanquish and expel those violent intruders, “and turn unto flight the armies of
the aliens?”
No sooner shall we take up arms in this holy war, but we shall have all the saints on earth, and all the
angels in heaven, engaged on our party. The holy church throughout the world is daily interceding with
God for the success of all such endeavours; and, doubtless, those heavenly hosts above are nearly
concerned in the interests of religion, and infinitely desirous to see the divine life thriving and prevailing
in this inferior world; and that the will of God may be done by us on earth, as it is done by themselves in
heaven. And may we not then encourage ourselves, as the prophet did His servant, when he showed
him the horses and chariots of fire, “Fear not, for they that be with us are more than they that be
against us?”
WE MUST DO WHAT WE CAN, AND DEPEND ON THE DIVINE ASSISTANCE.
Away then with all perplexing fears and desponding thoughts.
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To undertake vigorously, and rely confidently on the divine assistance, is more than half the conquest.
“Let us arise and be doing, and the Lord will be with us.” It is true, religion in the souls of men is the
immediate work of God, and all our natural endeavours can neither produce it alone, nor merit those
supernatural aids by which it must be wrought. The Holy Ghost must come upon us, and the power of
the Highest must overthrow us, before that holy thing can be begotten, and Christ be formed in us. But
yet we must not expect that this whole work should be done without any concurring endeavours of our
own. We must not lie loitering in the ditch, and wait till Omnipotence pull us from thence. No, no: we
must bestir ourselves, and actuate those powers which we have already received. We must put forth
ourselves to our utmost capacities, and then we may hope that “our labor shall not be in vain in the
Lord.” All the art and industry of man cannot form the smallest herb, or make a stalk of corn to grow in
the field; it is the energy of nature, and the influences of Heaven, which produce this effect. It is God
“who causeth the grass to grow, and herb for the service of man;” and yet nobody will say, that the
labors of the husbandman are useless or unnecessary. So, likewise, the human soul is immediately
created by God. It is he who both formeth and enlivens the child; and yet he hath appointed the
marriagebed as the ordinary means for the propagation of mankind.
Though there must intervene a stroke of Omnipotence to effect this mighty change in our souls, yet
ought we to do what we can to fit and prepare ourselves; for we must break up our fallow ground, and
root out the weeds, and pull up the thorns, that so we may be more ready to receive the seeds of grace,
and the dew of heaven. It is true, God hath been found of some who sought Him not. He hath cast
himself in their way, who were quite out of his. He hath laid hold upon them, and stopped their course
on a sudden; for so was St. Paul converted in his journey to Damascus. But certainly this is not God’s
ordinary method of dealing with men. Though he hath not tied himself to means, yet he hath tied us to
the use of them; and we have never more reason to expect the divine assistance, than when we are
doing our utmost endeavours. It shall therefore be my next work, to show what course we ought to take
for attaining that blessed temper I have hitherto described. But here, if, in delivering my own thoughts, I
shall chance to differ from what is or may be said by others in this matter, I would not be thought to
contradict and oppose them, more than physicians do, when they prescribe several remedies for the
same disease, which perhaps are all useful and good. “Every one may propose the method he judges
most proper and convenient; but he doth not thereby pretend that the cure can never be effected,
unless that be exactly observed. I doubt it hath occasioned much unnecessary disquietude to some holy
persons, that they have not found such a regular and orderly transaction in their souls, as they have
seen described in books; that they have not passed through all those steps and stages of conversion,
which some (who perhaps have felt them in themselves) have too peremptorily prescribed unto others.
God hath several ways of dealing with the souls of men, and it sufficeth if the work be accomplished,
whatever the methods have been. Again, though in proposing directions I must follow that order which
the nature of things shall lead to, yet I do not mean that the same method should be so punctually
observed in the practice, as if the latter rules were never to be heeded till some considerable time have
been spent in practicing the former. The directions I intend are mutually conducive one to another, and
are all to be performed as occasion shall serve, and we find ourselves enabled to perform them.
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WE MUST SHUN ALL MANNER OF SIN.
But now, that I may detain you no longer, if we desire to have our souls molded to this holy frame, to
become partakers of the divine nature, and have Christ formed in our hearts, we must seriously resolve,
and carefully endeavour, to avoid and abandon all vicious and sinful practices. There can be no treaty of
peace, till once we lay down these weapons of rebellion wherewith we fight against heaven; nor can we
expect to have our distempers cured, if we be daily feeding on poison. Every willful sin gives a mortal
wound to the soul, and puts it at a greater distance from God and goodness; and we can never hope to
have our hearts purified from corrupt affections, unless we cleanse our hands from vicious actions.
Now, in this case we cannot excuse ourselves by the pretence of impossibility; for sure our outward man
is some way in our power. We have some command of our feet, and hands, and tongue, nay, and of our
thoughts and fancies too, at least so far as to divert them from impure and sinful objects, and to turn
our mind another way; and we find this power and authority much strengthened and advanced, if we
were careful to manage and exercise it. In the mean while, I acknowledge our corruptions are so strong,
and our temptations so many, that it will require a great deal of steadfastness and resolution, of
watchfulness and care, to preserve ourselves, even in this degree of innocence and purity.
WE MUST KNOW WHAT THINGS ARE SINFUL.
And, first, let us inform ourselves well what those sins are from which we ought to abstain. And here we
must not take our measures from the maxims of the world, or the practices of those whom in charity we
account good men. Most people have very light apprehensions of these things, and are not sensible of
any fault, unless it be gross and flagitious, and scarce reckon any so great as that which they call
preciseness: and those who are more serious, do many times allow themselves too great latitude and
freedom. Alas! How much pride and vanity, and passion and honour; how much weakness, and folly,
and sin, doth every day show itself in their converse and behaviour? It may be they are humbled for it,
and striving against it, and are daily gaining some ground: but then the progress is so small, and their
failings so many, that we have need to choose a more exact pattern. Every one of us must answer for
himself, and the practices of others will never warrant and secure us. It is the highest folly to regulate
our actions by any other standard than that by which we must be judged. If ever we would cleanse our
way, it must be “by taking heed thereto according to the word of God;” and that “word which is quick
and powerful, and sharper than any twoedged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and
spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart,” will
certainly discover many things to be sinful and hideous, which pass for very innocent in the eyes of the
world. Let us therefore imitate the Psalmist, who saith, “Concerning the works of men, by the words of
thy lips I have kept myself from the paths of the destroyer.” Let us acquaint ourselves with the strict and
holy laws of our religion. Let us consider the discourses of our blessed Saviour, (especially that divine
sermon on the mount,) and the writings of his holy apostles, where an ingenuous and unbiased mind
may clearly discern those limits and bounds by which our actions ought to be confined. And then let us
never look upon any sin as light and inconsiderable; but be fully persuaded, that the smallest is infinitely
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heinous in the sight of God, and prejudicial to the souls of men; and that, if we had the right sense of
things, we should be as deeply affected with the least irregularities, as now we are with the highest
crimes.
WE MUST RESIST THE TEMPTATIONS OF SIN, BY CONSIDERING THE EVILS
THEY WILL DRAW ON US.
But now, amongst those things which we discover to be sinful, there will be some unto which, through
the disposition of our nature, or long custom, or the endearments of pleasure, we are so much wedded,
that it will be like cutting off the right hand, or pulling out the right eye, to abandon them. But must we
therefore sit down and wait till all difficulties be over, and every temptation be gone? This were to
imitate the fool in the poet, who stood the whole day at the river-side till all the water should run by.
We must not indulge our inclinations, as we do little children, till they grow weary of the thing they are
unwilling to let go. We must not continue our sinful practices, in hopes that the divine grace will one day
overpower our spirits, and make us hate them for their own deformity.
Let us suppose that we are utterly destitute of any supernatural principle, and want that taste by which
we should discern and abhor perverse things; yet sure we are capable of some considerations which
may be of force to persuade us to this reformation of our lives. If the inward deformity and heinous
nature of sin cannot affect us, at least we may be frightened by those dreadful consequences that
attend it: that same selfish principle which pushes us forward unto the pursuit of sinful pleasures, will
make us loath to buy them at the rate of everlasting misery. Thus we may encounter selflove with its
own weapons, and employ one natural inclination for repressing the exorbitances of another. Let us
therefore accustom ourselves to consider seriously, what a fearful thing it must needs be to irritate and
offend that infinite Being on whom we hang and depend every moment, who needs but to withdraw his
mercies to make us miserable, or his assistance to make us nothing. Let us frequently remember the
shortness and uncertainty of our lives, and how that, after we have taken a few more turns in the world,
and conversed a little longer amongst men, we must all go down unto the dark and silent grave, and
carry nothing along with us but anguish and regret for all our sinful enjoyments; and then think what
horror must needs seize the guilty soul, to find itself naked and all alone before the severe and impartial
Judge of the world, to render an exact account, not only of its more important and considerable
transactions, but of every word that the tongue hath uttered, and the swiftest and most secret thought
that ever passed through the mind. Let us sometimes represent unto ourselves the terrors of that
dreadful day, when the foundation of the earth shall be shaken, and the heavens shall pass away with a
great noise, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat, and the present frame of nature be
dissolved, and our eyes shall see the blessed Jesus, (who came once into the world in all humility to visit
us, to purchase pardon for us, and beseech us to accept of it,) now appearing in the majesty of his glory,
and descending from heaven in a flaming fire, to take vengeance on those that have despised his mercy,
and persisted in rebellion against him. When all the hidden things of darkness shall be brought to light,
and the counsels of the heart shall be made manifest; when those secret impurities and subtle frauds
whereof the world did never suspect us, shall be exposed and laid open to public view, and many
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thousand actions which we never dreamed to be sinful, or else had altogether forgotten, shall be
charged home upon our consciences, with such evident convictions of guilt, that we shall neither be able
to deny nor excuse them.
Then shall all the angels in heaven, and all the saints that ever lived on the earth, approve that dreadful
sentence which shall be passed on wicked men; and those who perhaps did love and esteem them when
they lived in the world, shall look upon them with indignation and abhorrence, and never make one
request for their deliverance. Let us consider the eternal punishment of damned souls, which are
shadowed forth in Scripture by metaphors taken from those things that are most terrible and grievous in
the world, and yet all do not suffice to convey into our minds any full apprehensions of them. When we
have joined together the importance of all these expressions, and added unto them whatever our fancy
can conceive of misery and torment, we must still remember, that all this comes infinitely short of the
truth and reality of the thing.
It is true, this is a sad and melancholy subject; there is anguish and horror in the consideration of it; but
sure it must be infinitely more dreadful to endure it: and such thoughts as these may be very useful to
fright us from the courses that would lead us thither; how fond soever we may be of sinful pleasures,
the fear of hell would make us abstain. Our most forward inclinations will startle and give back, when
pressed with that question in the prophet, “Who amongst us can dwell with everlasting burnings?”
To this very purpose it is that the terrors of another world are so frequently represented in holy writ,
and that in such terms as are most proper to affect and influence a carnal mind: these fears can never
suffice to make any person truly good; but certainly they may restrain us from much evil, and have often
made way for more ingenious and kindly impressions.
WE MUST KEEP A CONSTANT WATCH OVER OURSELVES.
But it will not suffice to consider these things once and again, nor to form some resolutions of
abandoning our sins, unless we maintain a constant guard, and be continually watching against them.
Sometimes the mind is awakened to see the dismal consequences of a vicious life, and straight we are
resolved to reform; but, alas! it presently falleth asleep, and we lose that prospect which we had of
things, and then temptations take the advantage; they solicit and importune us continually, and so do
frequently engage our consent before we are aware. It is the folly and ruin of most people to live at
adventure, and take part in every thing that comes in their way, seldom considering what they are about
to say or do. If we would have our resolutions take effect, we must take heed unto our ways, and set a
watch before the door of our lips, and examine the motions that arise in our hearts, and cause them to
tell us whence they come, and whither they go; whether it be pride or passion, or any corrupt and
vicious humour, that prompteth us to any design, and whether God will be offended or any body
harmed by it. And if we have no time for long reasonings, let us at least turn our eyes toward God, and
place ourselves in his presence, to ask his leave and approbation for what we do. Let us consider
ourselves under the all-seeing eye of that divine Majesty, as in the midst of an infinite globe of light,
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which compasseth us about both behind and before, and pierceth to the innermost corners of the soul.
The sense and remembrance of the divine presence is the most ready and effectual means, both to
discover what is unlawful, and to restrain us from it. There are some things a person could make a shift
to pelliate or defend, and yet he dares not look Almighty God in the face, and adventure upon them. If
we look unto him we shall be lightened; if we “set him always before us, he will guide us by his eye, and
instruct us in the way wherein we ought to walk.”
WE MUST OFTEN EXAMINE OUR ACTIONS.
This care and watchfulness over our actions must be seconded by frequent and serious reflections upon
them, not only that we may obtain the divine mercy and pardon for our sins, by an humble and
sorrowful acknowledgment of them; but also that we may re-enforce and strengthen our resolutions,
and learn to decline or resist the temptations by which we have been formerly foiled. It is an advice
worthy of a Christian, though it did first drop from a heathen pen, that before we betake ourselves to
rest, we renew and examine all the passages of the day, that we may have the comfort of what we have
done aright, and may redress what we find to have been done amiss, and make the shipwrecks of one
day be as marks to direct our course in another. This may be called the very art of virtuous living, and
would contribute wonderfully to advance our reformation, and preserve our innocence. But, withal, we
must nor forget to implore the divine assistance, especially against those sins that do most easily beset
us: and though it be supposed that our hearts are not yet moulded into that spiritual frame which
should render our devotions acceptable; yet, methinks, such considerations as have been proposed to
deter us from sin, may also stir us up to some natural seriousness, and make our prayers against it as
earnest, at least, as they are wont to be against other calamities: and I doubt not but God, who heareth
the cry of the ravens, will have some regard even to such petitions as proceed from those natural
passions which himself hath implanted in us. Besides, that those prayers against sin, will be powerful
engagements on ourselves to excite us to watchfulness and care; and common ingenuity will make us
ashamed to relapse into those faults which we have lately bewailed before God, and against which we
have begged his assistance.
IT IS FIT TO RESTRAIN OURSELVES IN MANY LAWFUL THINGS.
Thus are we to make the first essay for recovering the divine life, by restraining the natural inclinations,
that they break not out into sinful practices. But now I must add, that Christian prudence will teach us to
abstain from gratifications that are not simply unlawful, and that, not only that we may secure our
innocence, which would be in continual hazzard, if we should strain our liberty to the utmost point; but
also, that thereby we may weaken the force of nature, and teach our appetites to obey. We must do
with ourselves as prudent parents with their children, who cross their wills in many little indifferent
things, to make them manageable and submissive in more considerable instances. He who would
mortify the pride and vanity of his spirit, should stop his ears to the most deserved praises, and
sometimes forbear his just vindication from the censures and aspersions of others, especially if they
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reflect only upon his prudence and conduct, and not on his virtue and innocence. He who would check a
revengeful humour, would do well to deny himself the satisfaction of representing unto others the
injuries which he hath sustained; and if we would so take heed to our ways, that we sin not with our
tongue, we must accustom ourselves much to solitude and silence, and sometimes with the Psalmist,
“hold our peace even from good,” till once we have gotten some command over that unruly member.
Thus, I say, we may bind up our natural inclinations, and make our appetites more moderate in their
cravings, by accustoming them to frequent refusals; but it is not enough to have them under violence
and restraint.
WE MUST STRIVE TO PUT OURSELVES OUT OF LOVE WITH THE WORLD.
Our next essay must be, to wean our affections from created things, and all the delights and
entertainments of the lower life, which sink and depress the souls of men, and retard their motions
towards God and heaven; and this we must do by possessing our minds with a deep persuasion of the
vanity and emptiness of worldly enjoyments. This is an ordinary theme, and every body can make
declamations upon it; but, alas! how few understand or believe what they say? These notions float in
our brains, and come sliding off our tongues, but we have no deep impression of them on our spirits; we
feel not the truth which we pretend to believe. We can tell, that all the glory and splendour, all the
pleasures and enjoyments of the world are vanity and nothing; and yet these nothings take up all our
thoughts, and engross all our affections; they stifle the better inclinations of our soul, and inveigle us
into many a sin. It may be in a sober mood we give them the slight, and resolve to be no longer deluded
with them; but those thoughts seldom outlive the next temptation; the vanities which we have shut out
at the doors get in at a postern: there are still some pretensions, some hopes that flatter us; and after
we have been frustrated a thousand times, we must be continually repeating the experiment: the least
difference of circumstances is enough to delude us, and make us expect that satisfaction in one thing
which we have missed in another; but could we once get clearly off, and come to a serious and real
contempt of worldly things, this were a very considerable advancement in our way. The soul of man is of
a vigorous and active nature, and hath in it a raging and unextinguishable thirst, an immaterial kind of
fire, always catching at some object or other, in conjunction wherewith it thinks to be happy; and were
it once rent from the world, and all the bewitching enjoyments under the sun, it would quickly search
after some higher and more excellent object, to satisfy its ardent and importunate cravings; and, being
no longer dazzled with glittering vanities, would fix on that supreme and all-sufficient Good, where it
would discover such beauty and sweetness as would charm and overpower all its affections.
The love of the world, and the love of God, are like the scales of a balance; as the one falleth, the other
doth rise: when our natural inclinations prosper, and the creature is exalted in our soul, religion is faint,
and doth languish; but when earthly objects wither away, and lose their beauty, and the soul begins to
cool and flag in its prosecution of them, then the seeds of grace take root, and the divine life begins to
flourish and prevail. It doth, therefore, nearly concern us, to convince ourselves of the emptiness and
vanity of creature-enjoyments, and reason our heart out of love with them: let us seriously consider all
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that our reason or our faith, our own experience or the observation of others, can suggest to this effect:
let as ponder the matter over and over, and fix our thoughts on this truth, till we become really
persuaded of it. Amidst all our pursuits and designs, let us stop and ask ourselves, For what end is all
this? At what do I aim? Can the gross and muddy pleasures of sense, or a heap of white and yellow
earth, or the esteem and affection of silly creatures like myself, satisfy a rational and immortal soul?
Have I not tried these things already? Will they have a higher relish, and yield me more contentment
tomorrow than yesterday, or the next year than they did the last? There may be some little difference
betwixt that which I am now pursuing, and that which I enjoyed before; but sure, my former enjoyments
did show as pleasant and promise as fair, before I attained them; like the rainbow, they looked very
glorious at a distance, but when I approached I found nothing but emptiness and vapour. O what a poor
thing would the life of man be, if it were capable of no higher enjoyments!
I cannot insist on this subject; and there is the less need when I remember to whom I am writing. Yes,
my dear friend, you have had as great experience of the emptiness and vanity of human things, and
have, at present, as few worldly engagements as any that I know. I have sometimes reflected on those
passages of your life wherewith you have been pleased to acquaint me; and, methinks, through all, I can
discern a design of the divine Providence to wean your affections from every thing here below. The trials
you have had of those things which the world dotes upon, have taught you to despise them; and you
have found by experience, that neither the endowments of nature, nor the advantages of fortune, are
sufficient for happiness; that every rose hath its thorn, and there may be a worm at the foot of the
fairest gourd; some secret and undiscerned grief, which may make a person deserve the pity of those
who, perhaps, do admire or envy their supposed felicity. If any earthly comforts have got too much of
your heart, I think they have been your relations and friends; and the dearest of these are removed out
of the world, so that you must raise your mind towards heaven when you would think upon them. Thus,
God hath provided that your heart may be loosed from the world, and that he may not have any rival in
your affection, which I have always observed to be so large and unbounded, so noble and disinterested,
that no inferior object can answer or deserve it.
WE MUST DO THOSE OUTWARD ACTIONS THAT ARE COMMANDED.
When we have got our corruptions restrained, and our natural appetites and inclinations towards
worldly things in some measure subdued, we must proceed to take such exercises as have a more
immediate tendency to excite and awaken the divine life; and, first, let us endeavour conscientiously to
perform those duties which religion doth require, and whereunto it would incline us, if it did prevail in
our souls. If we cannot get our inward disposition presently charged, let us study at least to regulate our
outward deportment: if our hearts be not yet inflamed with divine love, let us, however, own our
allegiance to that infinite Majesty, by attending his service and listening to his word, by speaking
reverently of his name and praising his goodness, and exhorting others to serve and obey him. If we
want that charity, and those bowels of compassion which we ought to have towards our neighbours, yet
must we not omit any occasion of doing them good: if our hearts be haughty and proud, we must,
nevertheless study a modest and humble deportment. These external performances are of little value in
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themselves, yet they may help us forward to better things. The apostle indeed telleth us, “that bodily
exercise profiteth little:” but he seems not to affirm that it is altogether useless; it is always good to be
doing what we can, for then God is wont to pity our weakness, and assist our feeble endeavours; and
when true charity and humility, and other graces of the divine Spirit, come to take root in our souls, they
will exert themselves more freely, and with less difficulty, if we have before been accustomed to express
them in our outward conversations.
Nor need we fear the imputation of hypocrisy; though our actions do thus somewhat outrun our
affections, seeing they do still proceed from a sense of our duty; and our design is not to appear better
than we are, but that we may really become so.
WE MUST ENDEAVOR TO FORM INTERNAL ACTS OF DEVOTION, CHARITY, &c.
But as inward acts have a more immediate influence on the soul, to mould it to a right temper and
frame, so ought we to be most frequent and sedulous in the exercise of them. Let us be often lifting up
our hearts toward God; and if we do not say that we love him above all things, let us at least
acknowledge, that it is our duty, and would be our happiness, so to do: let us lament the dishonour
done to him by foolish and sinful men, and applaud the praises and adorations that are given him by
that blessed and glorious company above: let us resign and yield ourselves up unto him a thousand
times, to be governed by his laws, and disposed of at his pleasure; and though our stubborn hearts
should start back and refuse, yet let us tell him we are convinced that his will is always just and good;
and, therefore, desire him to do with us whatsoever he pleaseth, whether we will or not. And so, for
begetting in us a universal charity towards men, we must be frequently putting up wishes for their
happiness, and blessing every person that we see; and when we have done any thing for the relief of the
miserable, we may second it with earnest desires, that God would take care of them, and deliver them
out of all their distresses.
Thus should we exercise ourselves unto godliness, and when we are employing the powers that we
have, the Spirit of God is wont to strike in and elevate these acts of our soul beyond the pitch of nature,
and give them a divine impression; and, after the frequent reiteration of these, we shall find ourselves
more inclined unto them, they flowing with greater freedom and ease.
CONSIDERATION A GREAT INSTRUMENT OF RELIGION.
I shall mention but two other means for begetting that holy and divine temper of spirit which is the
subject of the present discourse. And the first is, a deep and serious consideration of the truths of our
religion, and that, both as to the certainty and importance of them.—The assent which is ordinarily
given to divine truth is very faint and languid, very weak and ineffectual, flowing only from a blind
inclination to follow that religion which is in fashion, or a lazy indifferency and unconcernedness
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whether things be so or not. Men are unwilling to quarrel with the religion of their country, and since all
their neighbours are Christians, they are content to be so too: but they are seldom at the pains to
consider the evidences of those truths, or to ponder the importance and tendency of them; and thence
it is that they have so little influence on their affections and practice. Those “spiritless and paralytic
thoughts,” (as one doth rightly term them,) are not able to move the will, and direct the hand. We must,
therefore, endeavour to work up our minds to a serious belief and full persuasion of divine truths, unto
a sense and feeling of spiritual things: our thoughts must dwell upon them till we be both convinced of
them, and deeply affected with them. Let us urge forward our spirits, and make them approach the
visible world, and fix our minds upon immaterial things, till we clearly perceive that these are no
dreams; nay, that all things are dreams and shadows beside them. When we look about us, and behold
the beauty and magnificence of this godly frame, the order and harmony of the whole creation, let our
thoughts from thence take their flight towards that omnipotent wisdom and goodness which did at first
produce, and doth still establish and uphold the same. When we reflect upon ourselves, let us consider
that we are not a mere piece of organized matter, a curious and well-contrived engine; that there is
more in us than flesh, and blood, and bones, even a divine spark, capable to know, and love, and enjoy
our Maker; and though it be now exceedingly clogged with its dull and lumpish companion, yet ere long
it shall be delivered, and can subsist without the body, as well as that can do without the clothes which
we throw off at our pleasure. Let us often withdraw our thoughts from this earth, this scene of misery,
and folly, and sin, and raise them towards that more vast and glorious world, whose innocent and
blessed inhabitants solace themselves eternally in the divine presence, and know no other passions, but
an unmixed joy and an unbounded love. And then consider how the blessed Son of God came down to
this lower world to live among us, and die for us, that he might bring us to a portion of the same felicity;
and think how he hath overcome the sharpness of death, and opened the kingdom of heaven to all
believers, and is now set down on the right hand of the Majesty on high, and yet is not the less mindful
of us, but receiveth our prayers, and presenteth them unto his Father, and is daily visiting his church
with the influences of his Spirit, as the sun reacheth us with his beams.
TO BEGET DIVINE LOVE, WE MUST CONSIDER THE EXCELLENCY OF THE
DIVINE NATURE.
The serious and frequent consideration of these, and such other divine truths, is the most proper
method to beget that lively faith which is the foundation of religion, the spring and root of the divine
life. Let me further suggest some particular subjects of meditation for producing the several branches of
it.
And, first, To inflame our souls with the love of God, let us consider the excellency of his nature, and his
love and kindness towards us. It is little we know of the divine perfections; and yet that little may suffice
to fill our souls with admiration and love, to ravish our affections, as well as to raise our wonder; for we
are not merely creatures of sense, that we should be incapable of any other affection but that which
entereth by the eyes. The character of any excellent person whom we have never seen, will many times
engage our hearts, and make us hugely concerned in all his interests.
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And what is it, I pray you, that engages us so much to those with whom we converse? I cannot think that
is merely the colour of their face, in their comely proportions, for then we should fall in love with
statues, and pictures, and flowers.
These outward accomplishments may a little delight the eye, but would never be able to prevail so much
on the heart, if they did not represent some vital perfection. We either see or apprehend some
greatness of mind, or vigour of spirit, or sweetness of disposition; some sprightliness, or wisdom, or
goodness, which charm our spirit and command our love.
Now these perfections are not obvious to the sight, the eyes can only discern the signs and effects of
them; and if it be the understanding that directs our affection, and vital perfections prevail with it,
certainly the excellencies of the divine nature (the traces whereof we cannot but discover in every thing
we behold) would not fail to engage our hearts, if we did seriously view and regard them. Shall we not
be infinitely more transported with that almighty wisdom and goodness which fills the universe, and
displays itself in all the parts of the creation, which establisheth the frame of nature, and turneth the
mighty wheels of Providence, and keepeth the world from disorder and ruin, than with the faint rays of
the very same perfections which we meet with in our fellow-creatures? Shall we dote on the sacred
pieces of a rude and imperfect picture, and never be affected with the original beauty; This were an
unaccountable stupidity and blindness. Whatever we find lovely in a friend, or in a saint, ought not to
engross, but to elevate our affections: we should conclude with ourselves, that if there be so much
sweetness in a drop, there must be infinitely more in the fountain; if there be so much splendour in a
ray, what must the sun be in its glory?
Nor can we pretend the remoteness of the object, as if God were at too great a distance for our
converse or our love. “He is not far from every one of us; for in him we live, move, and have our being.”
We cannot open our eyes, but we must behold some footsteps of his glory; and we cannot turn toward
him, but we shall be sure to find his intent upon us, waiting as it were to catch a look, ready to entertain
the most intimate fellowship and communion with us. Let us therefore endeavour to raise our minds to
the clearest conceptions of the divine nature. Let us consider all that his works do declare, or his word
doth discover of him unto us; and let us especially contemplate that visible representation of him which
was made in our own nature by his Son, who was the “brightness of his glory, and the express image of
his person,” and who appeared in the world to discover at once what God is, and what we ought to be.
Let us represent him unto our minds as we find him described in the gospel, and there we shall behold
the perfections of the divine nature, though covered with the vail of human infirmities; and when we
have framed unto ourselves the clearest notion that we can of a Being infinite in power, in wisdom, and
goodness, the Author and fountain of all perfections, let us fix the eyes of our souls upon it, that our
eyes may affect our heart—and while we are musing the fire will burn.
WE SHOULD MEDITATE ON GOD'S GOODNESS AND LOVE.
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Especially, if we hereunto add the consideration of God’s favour and good-will towards us; nothing is
more powerful to engage our affection, than to find that we are beloved.
Expressions of kindness are always pleasing and acceptable unto us, though the person should be
otherwise mean and contemptible; but to have the love of one who is altogether lovely, to know that
the glorious Majesty of heaven hath any regard unto us, how must it astonish and delight us, how must
it overcome our spirits, and melt our hearts, and put our whole soul into a flame! Now, as the word of
God is full of the expressions of his love towards men, so all his works do loudly proclaim it. He gave us
our being, and, by preserving us in it, doth renew the donation every moment. He hath placed us in a
rich and well-furnished world, and liberally provided for all our necessities. He rains down blessings from
heaven upon us, and causeth the earth to bring forth our provision. He giveth us our food and raiment,
and while we are spending the productions of one year, he is preparing for us against another. He
sweetens our lives with innumerable comforts, and gratifies every faculty with suitable objects. The eye
of his providence is always upon us, and he watcheth for our safety when we are fast asleep, neither
minding him nor ourselves. But, lest we should think these testimonies of his kindness less considerable,
because they are the easy issues of his omnipotent power, and do not put him to any trouble or pain, he
hath taken a more wonderful method to endear himself to us: he hath testified his affection to us by
suffering as well as by doing; and because he could not suffer in his own nature he assumed ours. The
eternal Son of God did clothe himself with the infirmities of our flesh, and left the company of those
innocent and blessed spirits who knew well how to love and adore him, that he might dwell among men,
and wrestle with the obstinacy of that rebellious race, to reduce them to their allegiance and felicity,
and then to offer himself up as a sacrifice and propitiation for them. I remember one of the poets hath
an ingenious fancy to express the passion wherewith he found himself overcome after a long resistance:
that the god of love had shot all his golden arrows at him, but could never pierce his heart, till at length
he put himself into the bow, and darted himself straight into his breast. Methinks this doth some way
adumbrate God’s method of dealing with men. He had long contended with a stubborn world, and
thrown down many a blessing upon them; and when all his other gifts could not prevail, he at last made
a gift of himself, to testify his affection and engage theirs. The account which we have of our Savior’s life
in the gospel, doth all along present us with the story of his love: all the pains that he took, and the
troubles that he endured, were the wonderful effects and uncontrollable evidences of it. But, O that
last, that dismal scene! Is it possible to remember it, and question his kindness, or deny him ours? Here,
here it is, my dear friend, that we should fix our most serious and solemn thoughts, “that Christ may
dwell in our hearts by faith; that we, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend
with all saints what is the breadth, and length, and depth, and height; and to know the love of Christ
which passeth knowledge, that we may be filled with all the fulness of God.”
We ought also frequently to reflect on those particular tokens of favour and love, which God hath
bestowed on ourselves; how long he hath borne with our follies and sins, and waited to be gracious unto
us—wrestling, as it were, with the stubbornness of our hearts, and essaying every method to reclaim us.
We should keep a register in our minds of all the eminent blessings and deliverances we have met with,
some whereof have been so conveyed, that we might clearly perceive they were not the issues of
chance, but the gracious effects of the divine favour, and the signal returns of our prayers. Nor ought we
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to embitter the thoughts of these things with any harsh or unworthy suspicions, as if they were designed
on purpose to enhance our guilt, and heighten our eternal damnation. No, no, my friend, God is love,
and he hath no pleasure in the ruin of his creatures. If they abuse his goodness, and turn his grace into
wantonness, and thereby plunge themselves into the greater depth of guilt and misery, this is the effect
of their obstinate wickedness, and not the design of those benefits which he bestows.
If these considerations had once begotten in our hearts a real love and affection towards almighty God,
that would easily lead us unto the other branches of religion; and, therefore, I shall need say the less of
them.
TO BEGET CHARITY WE MUST REMEMBER THAT ALL MEN ARE NEARLY
RELATED UNTO GOD.
We shall find our hearts enlarged in charity toward men, by considering the relation wherein they stand
unto God, and the impresses of his image which are stamped upon them. They are not only his
creatures, the workmanship of his hands, but such of whom he taketh special care, and for whom he
hath a very dear and tender regard, having laid the designs of their happiness before the foundations of
the world, and being willing to live and converse with them in all the ages of eternity. The meanest and
most contemptible person whom we behold is the offspring of heaven, one of the children of the Most
High; and however unworthy he might behave himself of that relation, so long as God hath not
abdicated and disowned him by a final sentence, he will have us to acknowledge him as one of him, and
as such to embrace him with a sincere and cordial affection. You know what a great concernment we
are wont to have for those that do any ways belong to the person whom we love; how gladly we lay
hold on every opportunity to gratify the child or servant of a friend; and sure our love towards God
would as naturally spring forth in charity towards men, did we mind the interest that he is pleased to
take in them, and consider that every soul is dearer unto him than all the material world; and that he did
not account the blood of his Son too great a price for their redemption.
THAT THEY CARRY GOD'S IMAGE UPON THEM.
Again, as all men stand in a near relation to God, so they have still so much of his image stamped on
them as may oblige and excite us to love them. In some, this image is more eminent and conspicuous,
and we can discern the lovely traces of wisdom and goodness; and though in others it may be miserably
sullied and defaced, yet it is not altogether razed—some lineaments at least do still remain. All men are
endowed with rational and immortal souls, with understandings and wills capable of the highest and
most exalted things; and if they be at present disordered, and put out of tune by wickedness and folly,
this may indeed move our compassion, but ought not, in reason, to extinguish our love.
When we see a person of a rugged humor and perverse disposition, full of malice and dissimulation,
very foolish and very proud, it is hard to fall in love with an object that presents itself unto us under an
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idea so little grateful and lovely. But when we shall consider these evil qualities as the diseases and
distempers of a soul, which, in itself, is capable of all that wisdom and goodness wherewith the best of
saints have ever been adorned, and which may, one day, come to be raised to such heights of perfection
as shall render it a fit companion for the holy angels; this will turn our aversion into pity, and make us
behold him with such resentments as we should have when we look upon a beautiful body that were
mangled with wounds, or disfigured by some loathsome disease; and however we hate the vices, we
shall not cease to love the man.
TO BEGET PURITY, WE SHOULD CONSIDER THE DIGNITY OF OUR NATURE.
In the next place, for purifying our souls, and disentangling our affections from the pleasures and
enjoyments of this lower life, let us frequently ponder the excellency and dignity of our nature, and
what a shameful and unworthy thing it is for so noble and divine a creature as the soul of man, to be
sunk and immersed in brutish and sensual lusts, or amused with airy and fantastical delights, and so to
lose the relish of solid and spiritual pleasures; that the best should be fed and pampered, and the man
and the Christian be starved in us.
Did we but mind who we are, and for what we were made, this would teach us, in a right sense, to
reverence and stand in awe of ourselves; it would beget a modesty and shamefacedness, and make us
very shy and reserved in the use of the most innocent and allowable pleasures.
WE SHOULD MEDITATE OFTEN ON THE JOYS OF HEAVEN.
It will be very effectual to the same purpose, that we frequently raise our minds towards heaven, and
represent to our thoughts the joys that are at God’s right hand, those pleasures that endure for
evermore; “for every man that hath this hope in him purifieth himself, even as he is pure.” If our
heavenly country be much in our thoughts, it will make us as “strangers and pilgrims, to abstain from
fleshly lust, which war against the soul,” and keep ourselves unspotted from this world, that we may be
fit for the enjoyments and felicities of the other. But then we must see that our notions of heaven be
not gross and carnal, that we dream not of a Mahometan paradise, nor rest on those metaphors and
similitudes by which these joys are sometimes represented: for this might perhaps have a quite contrary
effect; it might entangle us farther in carnal affections, and we should be ready to indulge ourselves in a
very liberal foretaste of those pleasures wherein we had placed our everlasting felicity. But when we
come once to conceive aright of those pure and spiritual pleasures; when the happiness we propose to
ourselves is from the sight, and love, and enjoyment of God, and our minds are filled with the hopes and
forethoughts of that blessed estate; O how mean and contemptible will all things here below appear in
our eyes! With what disdain shall we reject the gross and muddy pleasures that would deprive us of
those celestial enjoyments, or any way unfit and indispose us for them!
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HUMILITY ARISES FROM THE CONSIDERATION OF OUR FAILINGS.
The last branch of religion is humility, and sure we can never want matter of consideration for begetting
it. All our wickednesses and imperfections, all our follies and our sins, may help to pull down that fond
and overweening conceit which we are apt to entertain of ourselves. That which makes any body
esteem us, is their knowledge or apprehension of some little good, and their ignorance of a great deal of
evil that may be in us; were they thoroughly acquainted with us, they would quickly change their
opinion. The thoughts that pass in our hearts, in the best and most serious day of our life, being exposed
unto public view, would render us either hateful or ridiculous. And now, however we conceal our failings
from one another, yet sure we are conscious of them ourselves, and some serious reflections upon them
would much qualify and allay the vanity of our spirits. Thus holy men have come really to think worse of
themselves, than of any other person in the world: not but that they knew that gross and scandalous
vices are, in their nature, more heinous than the surprises of temptations and infirmity; but because
they were much more intent on their own miscarriages than on those of their neighbours, and did
consider all the aggravations of the one, and every thing that might be supposed to diminish and
alleviate the other.
THOUGHTS OF GOD GIVE US THE LOWEST THOUGHTS OF OURSELVES.
But it is well observed by a pious writer, that the deepest and most pure humility doth not so much arise
from the consideration of our own faults and defects, as from a calm and quiet contemplation of the
divine purity and goodness. Our spots never appear so clearly, as when we place them before this
infinite light; and we never seem less in our own eyes, than when we look down upon ourselves from on
high. O how little, how nothing, do all these shadows of perfection then appear, for which we are wont
to value ourselves! That humility, which cometh from a view of our own sinfulness and misery, is more
turbulent and boisterous; but the other layeth us full as low, and wanteth nothing of that anguish and
vexation wherewith our souls are apt to boil, when they are the nearest objects of our thoughts.
There remains yet another means for begetting a holy and religious disposition in the soul, and that is,
fervent and hearty prayer. Holiness is the gift of God—indeed the greatest gift he doth bestow, or we
are capable to receive; and he hath promised his Holy Spirit to those who ask it of him. In prayer we
make the nearest approaches to God, and lie open to the influences of heaven; then it is that the Sun of
Righteousness doth visit us with his directest rays, and dissipates our darkness, and imprints his image
on our souls. I cannot now insist on the advantages of this exercise, or the disposition wherewith it
ought to be performed; and there is no need I should, there being so many books that treat on this
subject. I shall only tell you, that as there is one sort of prayer wherein we make use of the voice, which
is necessary in public, and may sometimes have its own advantages in private; and another, wherein
though we utter no sound, yet we conceive the expressions, and form the words, as it were, in our
minds; so there is a third and more sublime kind of prayer, wherein the soul takes a higher flight, and
having collected all its forces by long and serious meditation, it darts itself (if I may so speak) towards
God in sighs and groans, and thoughts too big for expression. As when, after a deep contemplation of
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the divine perfections appearing in all his works of wonder, it addresses itself unto him in the
profoundest adoration of his majesty and glory: for, when after sad reflections on its vileness and
miscarriages, it prostrates itself before him with the greatest confusion and sorrow, not daring to lift up
its eyes, or utter one word in his presence; or when, having well considered the beauty of holiness, and
the unspeakable felicity of those that are truly good, it panteth after God, and sendeth up such vigorous
and ardent desires as no words can sufficiently express, continuing and repeating each of these acts, as
long as it finds itself upheld by the force and impulse of the previous meditation.
This mental prayer is of all others the most effectual to purify the soul, and dispose it unto a holy and
religious temper, and may be termed the great secret of devotion, and one of the most powerful
instruments of the divine life; and, it may be, the apostle hath a peculiar respect unto it, when he saith,
that “the Spirit helpeth our infirmities, making intercession for us with groanings that cannot be
uttered,” or, as the original may bear, “that cannot be worded.” Yet I do not so recommend this sort of
prayer, as to supersede the use of the other; for we have so many several things to pray for, and every
petition of this nature requireth so much time, and so great an attention of spirit, that it were not easy
therein to overtake them all: to say nothing, that the deep sighs and heavings of the heart, which are
wont to accompany it, are something oppressive to nature, and make it hard to continue long in them.
But certainly a few of these inward aspirations will do more than a great many fluent and melting
expressions.
RELIGION IS TO BE ADVANCED BY THE SAME MEANS BY WHICH IT IS BEGUN;
AND THE USE OF THE HOLY SACRAMENT TOWARDS IT.
Thus, my dear friend, I have briefly proposed the method which I judge proper for molding the soul into
a holy frame; and the same means which serve to beget this divine temper, must still be practiced for
strengthening and advancing it: and therefore I shall recommend but one more for that purpose, and it
is the frequent and conscientious use of that holy sacrament, which is peculiarly appointed to nourish
and increase spiritual life, when once it is begun in the soul. All the instruments of religion do meet
together in this ordinance; and while we address ourselves unto it, we are put to practice all the rules
which were mentioned before. Then it is that we make the severest survey of our actions, and lay the
strictest obligations on ourselves; then are our minds raised up to the highest contempt of the world,
and every grace doth exercise itself with the greatest activity and vigor; all the subjects of contemplation
do there present themselves unto us with the greatest advantage; and then, if ever, doth the soul make
its most powerful sallies toward heaven, and assault it with a holy and acceptable force. And certainly
the neglect or careless performance of this duty, is one of the chief causes that bedwarfs our religion,
and makes us continue of so low a size. But it is time I should put a close to this letter, which is grown
to a far greater bulk than at first intended. If these poor papers can do you the smallest service, I shall
think myself very happy in this undertaking; at least I am hopeful you will kindly accept the sincere
endeavors of a person who would fain acquit himself of some part of that which he owes you.
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A PRAYER.
And now, O most gracious God, Father and Fountain of mercy and goodness, who has blessed us with
the knowledge of our happiness, and the way that leadeth unto it! excite in our souls such ardent
desires after the one, as may put us forth to the diligent prosecution of the other. Let us neither
presume on our own strength, nor distrust thy divine assistance: but while we are doing our utmost
endeavours, teach us still to depend on thee for success. Open our eyes, O God, and teach us out of thy
law. Bless us with an exact and tender sense of our duty, and a knowledge to discern perverse things. O
that our ways were directed to keep thy statutes, then shall we not be ashamed when we have respect
unto all thy commandments. Possess our hearts with a generous and holy disdain of all those poor
enjoyments which this world holdeth out to allure us, that they may never be able to inveigle our
affections, or betray us to any sin: turn away our eyes from beholding vanity, and quicken thou us in thy
law. Fill our souls with such a deep sense, and full persuasion of those great truths which thou hast
revealed in the gospel, as may influence and regulate our whole conversation; and that the life which we
henceforth live in the flesh, we may life through faith in the Son of God. O that the infinite perfections of
thy blessed nature, and the astonishing expressions of thy goodness and love, may conquer and
overpower our hearts, that they may be constantly rising toward thee in flames of devoutest affection,
and enlarging themselves in sincere and cordial love towards all the world for thy sake; and that we may
cleanse ourselves from all filthiness of flesh and spirit, perfecting holiness in thy fear, without which we
can never hope to behold and enjoy thee. Finally, O God! grant that the consideration of what thou art,
and what we ourselves are, may both humble and lay us low before thee, and also stir up in us the
strongest and most ardent aspiration towards thee. We desire to resign and give up ourselves to the
conduct of thy Holy Spirit; lead us in thy truth, and teach us, for thou art the God of our salvation; guide
us with thy counsel, and afterwards recieve us unto glory, for the merits and intercession of thy blessed
Son our Saviour. Amen.
THE END.
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